


Round Two

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Story of Three Boys [49]
Category: Glee
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Slash, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-12
Updated: 2012-03-15
Packaged: 2017-11-01 20:35:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Preparing the mango, a profile piece, Sam finally gets there, someone has to get the fish, Perseverance!, a little talk about Hannah, new BTW shirts, a second birthday that nobody really talks about, the science fair, Finn's apparently not allowed to date, and being happier with no expectations of winning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teaser

**Author's Note:**

> Copyediting by **david_of_oz**
> 
>    
> If you missed our post over the weekend, we wanted to let everyone know we're going to take a [one week posting hiatus](http://storyof3boys.livejournal.com/62005.html) during the first week of April. During that week, we'll make a post explaining some of our headcanon and answering questions you might have (within reason regarding spoilers!). 
> 
> <3 to all of our readers & commenters. Really. <3

Carole is simultaneously tired of mango and craving more of it, and since only fresh mango will do, she’s just going to have to crave something she can’t find. She’s also already tired of not sleeping on her stomach, but since she’s not even halfway through the pregnancy, she might as well just get used to that, too. 

The hormonal shifts and the forgetfulness, though, those are the things she’d most like to skip. Burt had to remind her a few weeks before that she had been discussing colleges when neither Kurt nor Noah had heard from their first choices. She hadn’t _meant_ to forget these things. 

And now Noah’s come to talk to them about Hannah, and her instinct is to just break down in tears for the rest of the evening. Carole had thought that Rina had gotten better, perhaps, because as Noah got older, she saw fewer and fewer examples of Rina’s… peculiarities. Carole knows firsthand how single motherhood can make someone take care of things that might have been left to slide in the past. But, no, apparently Noah has been picking up these things, taking care of them quietly, just like he was apparently learning music and hiding plenty of other things quietly, and Carole’s just not sure what to think. 

It probably doesn’t help that she can’t sit down for more than twenty minutes without Pretzel kicking her bladder, and she can’t concentrate on a single thing. 

Maybe she should ask Burt for some mango again, after all. 

 

Benji Whitman pockets his phone and shakes his head at the kid who just called him. Overprotective boyfriends are still cute in high school, he supposes, though they do lose their charm once you’re out in the real world. There’s nothing at all unprofessional about a profile piece on an up–and–coming young gay voice in Ohio. 

“Who was that?” Tim asks, putting down his hamburger. 

“Boyfriend of that kid I profiled about that school board thing in Lima,” Benji says. 

“Thought you were moving in on his territory, huh?” Brandon laughs. “I did wonder a little, Benji.”

“Yeah, ha ha, really funny,” Benji says, rolling his eyes a little. “Nah, there’s something about this kid, I’m telling you. Another ten, fifteen years from now, I’m going to have been the first guy who wrote about him and that’s going to mean something.”

“First gay governor of Ohio?” Brandon asks. 

“First gay president?” Tim offers.

“No idea what, but he’s going to be somebody. Trust me on that one,” Benji says, taking another sip of his Snapple. “The one thing I can’t peg is who the boyfriend is. He was sitting with a couple guys at the meeting, but neither stood out more or less as a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, it sounds like a place you’d want to be out and into PDA,” Brandon snorts. 

“Sounds like a place you’d want to get the hell out of as soon as possible,” Benji agrees.


	2. Who You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding one word that means everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Playlist track for 3x30 "Who You Are"](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL241221C641B5C214)

“What about… I dunno. ‘The Fury’?” David offers weakly. “This is not my kind of thing, Case.”

Casey makes a little noise to himself while he thinks about it. “Honestly, David, I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.”

“It’s uh.” David holds up one hand and looks sheepish. “Okay, maybe ‘Impulse Control’ instead?”

“Hmm. Well, other than punching Miles, you’re kind of the _most_ controlled person I know,” Casey says. “And I don’t think Miles counts. Anyway, that’s just. It’s not who you are at all, David. I don’t think it is.”

“Months of therapy,” David grunts. “Well, what are you going to put on yours?”

“Oh, that’s not fair! We’re talking about _your_ shirt and _your_ inability to think of something,” Casey says, laughing. “Not _mine_!” 

“It’s fair! We both have to have a shirt by the same time.” David grins. “So what is it?”

“How about, hmm. Oh! How about ‘Hyper’ or ‘Eats Sugar’?”

David just looks at Casey for a moment. “And that’s who _you_ are?” he says finally. “‘Eats Sugar’? Really?”

“Well, it’s accurate. ‘Candy isn’t food, Case. Cookies don’t count as dinner, Case’,” Casey says, in what’s probably the single worst attempt at a David–voice ever in the history of voices. “It’s still better than ‘The Fury’. That one’s just silly.”

“Probably,” David concedes. “But it’s still like, one little part. Not all of you. And you’re only hyper because of all that sugar.”

“How do you know? Have you ever been around me without all the sugar?” Casey asks. 

“See, that’s my point. Sugar makes people hyper. I bet if you took a day off from eating sugar, you’d be like.” David stops mid-sentence and starts laughing. “You’d be like Rick.”

“Rick!” Casey says. He grabs one of David’s pillows and whacks him with it. “You take that back!”

David keeps laughing. “Well, he’s pretty damn sedate.”

“Also very straight and dating Alicia Brown,” Casey says, hitting David with the pillow one more time for good measure. “I’d hate to think sugar is the fine line between me and girls, David. That’s terrible.”

“Okay, a gay version of Rick?” David shakes his head. 

“I think your shirt should say, I don’t know. ‘Ridiculous’ or ‘Just Says Any Crazy Thing He Thinks’.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s so me,” David says flatly. 

Casey makes a face at David, but returns the pillow to its proper place. “Fine. Not you at all.” He settles back against the pillow and thinks for a minute. “I’m going to make your shirt, I think.”

“Oh, you are?” David snorts. “So does that mean I’m making yours?”

“Yes,” Casey says, definitively. “I think that’s a good deal right there. I trust you and you trust me, right?”

“Yeah,” David shrugs. “All right. Just nothing. I don’t know. Exaggerated.”

“I never exaggerate!” Casey insists. “Not even a little!”

“Case, you just said I was the most controlled person you know.” David shakes his head. “I stand by my statement. Nothing exaggerated from reality.”

“Well, I don’t actually know that many people,” Casey says, with a shrug. “I didn’t say in the whole world, just the people I know. You have way more impulse control than Miles, and Rick doesn’t even keep his mouth closed when he chews, so how much control is _that_?”

“I don’t think it’s hard to have more impulse control than Miles, though.” David shrugs. “Anyway. Anything you draw the line at?”

“Yes. ‘Short’. Also, ‘Redheaded’ or any variation of that.” Casey nods his head along with his words. “Those are too obvious. It’s redundant.”

“Okay, no exaggerations and no redundancy. Got it.”

“So, that means I can’t put ‘Captain America’ on yours, right?” Casey asks, fighting a smile.

“Yeah, that would be correct.”

“You’re no fun. Maybe your shirt will say ‘No Fun’ or ‘Fun Optional’. How’d you like _that_?” Casey says. 

“That falls under exaggerations!”

“No, it falls under lies. You’re lots of fun.”

 

Dave frowns a little as he walks into Ms. Pillsbury's office on Tuesday afternoon. No exaggerations and no redundancy. Nothing obvious, Casey said. 

Dave doesn't think what he's chosen violates any of those rules. Maybe it's a little obvious if someone knows Casey and knows his story, but it's not obvious by _looking_ at him, and Dave is pretty sure that's what Casey meant by obvious. 

It wasn't a sure thing. Dave thought about a few other words and phrases, but this one, this one kept coming back. The machine is fairly easy to use, and it takes longer to find a shirt that isn't marked 'XL' than it does to prep the machine to actually make the shirt. 

Once he presses that lever, once he makes the shirt, that's it; that's what Casey's going to wear, standing in front of the rest of PFLAG. Dave didn't really think about the responsibility of it when they were agreeing to make each other's shirts. It just seemed fun, and it is, but what if Casey hates it? What if he's mad at Dave for making him think about the word and all that it means, and then having to wear it, claim it, really own it? In front of Casey's friends and everyone at PFLAG?

Dave knows it's the right word, though. It's Casey, wrapped up in one word. No matter what else happens to Casey, he is this. No matter what happens in the future, Dave wants Casey to know this is who Dave sees. 

Once he remembers that, it's easy to press down the lever. 

 

This is much harder than Casey anticipated. It’s not that he can’t think of a word for David, so much as he can’t think of _one_ word for David, especially not one that David won’t dismiss as exaggerating or flat out say isn’t true. In fact, Casey’s pretty sure David will call just about anything even remotely nice an exaggeration, which leaves Casey in a bit of a predicament, since he has a hard time thinking of David in terms that aren’t ‘good’ or ‘heroic’ or ‘amazing’ or ‘handsome’ with a side of ‘oh my god I am so in love with you’.

He’s close to certain David won’t wear a shirt that says anything like that on it.

Casey briefly toys with the idea of just putting ‘David’ on David’s shirt, because even after spending about an hour doing nothing but trying to think of one word that sums up all the things about David that Casey loves and that everybody else should know, he keeps getting stuck on the quintessential Davidness of David, which isn’t at all helpful. Some people just aren’t meant to be broken down into one or two words, and David is apparently one of them.

The inability to come up with a shirt idea leaves Casey flopping around in frustration. He only feels more frustrated that night, because if there’s one thing in this world that does _not_ help simplify David down into a single word or phrase, it’s spending the night curled up with David and their whatever–this–is that they don’t talk about weird snuggling–touching pretty–sure–that’s–not–friends–but–what–is–it thing. Casey knows what he really wants to put on a shirt for David, because it’s the truest true thing he can think of; he also knows David wouldn’t wear it. David would kick a door down to save Casey’s life and put everything on hold to take care of Casey, but can’t take even the slightest step back from himself and see himself like Casey sees him.

When they get to school in the morning, though, Casey has a great idea. He taps on Ms. Pillsbury’s door between second and third period, and she smiles at him. It’s hard not to like her and feel a little bit like a kindred spirit, since they both belong to the tribe of smallish, red-haired, high-strung people. She probably likes sugar, too, though she might have to Lysol it first or something.

“Hello, Casey,” Ms. Pillsbury says. “What can I do for you today?”

“I’m just here to do shirts,” Casey explains.

“That’s great! The machine’s easy to use. What did you decide on for your shirt?”

“Oh, I didn’t,” Casey says. “David picked something out for me. I don’t know what yet. We made a deal that he’d pick out mine and I’d pick out his. Only, um. Is it okay if I do _two_ shirts?”

Ms. Pillsbury looks a little puzzled, but nods at him. “Sure, Casey. That will be fine.”

They get the shirts printed and Casey hides them in his bag, then hides them in one of his drawers at home. When David’s in the shower that night, Casey takes one of the shirts, the truest true one, and slips it between the bottom-most and next to bottom-most shirt in David’s T-shirt drawer, where he probably won’t see it for months and months. Still, it’s _there_ , and Casey knows it’s there, and David will find it eventually and he’ll know that it’s true, even if he’ll never admit it.

 

“Pop?” Dave calls towards where Casey is sitting on the couch. 

“Sure!” Casey calls back. 

Dave grabs two cans and walks over to Casey, handing him one. “Ready for this?”

“Mine says ‘Short’, doesn’t it?” Casey sighs. 

“And mine is ‘Captain America’?” Dave asks wryly.

“Obviously,” Casey says. “I mean, what else?”

Dave shakes his head and takes a deep breath, then reaches for his backpack, unzipping it slowly. “Ready, Case?”

Casey nods his head slightly and picks up the rolled-up T-shirt tucked between his feet on the floor. “I guess so,” he says, handing the shirt to Dave.

Dave hands Casey his shirt and then puts his hand on his in his lap. “At the same time?”

“I’ll count down for us,” Casey says, taking a deep breath. “Okay. One. Two.” He hesitates for a moment and glances up at Dave shyly. “Three.”

Dave nods and slowly shakes out the T-shirt in front of him, and he can’t decide if he wants to laugh or cry. Well, not cry, but. He’s just not sure. He lowers it slightly. “You, um. You’ll wear yours?”

Casey’s staring down at the shirt spread out across his lap, but he nods his head slowly. “Yes,” he says, his voice soft. “I’ll wear it.” His eyes are a little damp when he looks up at David again, but he smiles. “You’ll wear yours?”

Dave nods. “Yeah. I’ll wear it.” 

“We kind of, um. Match a little,” Casey says. “If you think about it.”

Dave half–grins. “Yeah. We do, a bit.” They don’t say anything else, both sitting on the couch, shirts in their laps, and Dave isn’t sure that there is anything to say.


	3. The Other Shirt (July 2012, Atlanta)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave isn't one to examine clothes as he packs or unpacks, but eventually, he's going to have to figure out the dorm's washer machines.

**July 19, 2012: Atlanta**  
Dave whips off the sweat–stained T-shirt as soon as he walks into his room, sending it arcing across the room into the not quite full laundry basket. He’ll have to take care of that, he thinks absently, later in the day. Practice clothes have to be washed. He pointedly ignores the much fuller laundry bag that has all of the clothes he _doesn’t_ wear to practice. With only four sets of clothes for practice, and running two–a–days, Dave already feels like he knows the dorm’s laundry room a little too well. 

Even though he knows he needs to make the time to wash the rest of his clothes. 

There’s just enough of them, though, that he hasn’t had to yet, three weeks into preseason. Dave heads to the bathroom and pulls on a mostly–clean pair of jeans before rummaging in the drawer for a T-shirt that’s both clean and not too ratty. It’s just some guys from the team, headed out for pizza, but the old ‘Star Spangled Spectacular’ race shirt with the hole in the shoulder is weight–room clothes, Dave figures. 

He grabs a white sleeve and pulls it out, then frowns, not recognizing it. He holds it up after a minute and takes in the white shirt and the black block lettering that’s so familiar, yet it feels like a ghost of another time. 

Funny how the gap between the end of April and the middle of July can feel like so much more than just not–quite–three months. 

Casey must’ve made two shirts, Dave assumes, and shoved this one deep in Dave’s drawers, for Dave to find while he was packing for Tech or even later, like now. And written on it is a single word: Loved.

Dave sighs, fighting the bittersweet smile he knows is on his face. So much _happened_ his senior year up to that point, and plenty of other things, different things, happened after the point at which Casey must’ve made the shirt. 

Dave traces the letters briefly, thinking about Casey and why he would have made the shirt, and he sighs. Dave doesn’t know for sure what love is, and he’s pretty sure Casey’s not any better off than he is, but maybe it doesn’t matter, as long as the other person feels loved in some way. And Casey was—is still—his best friend. 

So it doesn’t do Dave any good to dwell on it, to think about what Casey might have meant with the shirt, and whether or not he still means it in the way he did in April. It’s enough to know, Dave tells himself, that he meant something positive, that Casey cared enough to make it and to leave it in Dave’s drawer for discovery at a later date. 

Dave finds himself sighing again as he folds the shirt and places it carefully back in his drawer. He finds his other shirt from that week and places it next to ‘Loved’ in the bottom. He wouldn’t wear them in public; too hard to explain and he’s not sure he wants to try to explain either of them. But he knows that they’re there. 

Dave grabs a plain black T-shirt and pulls it on over his head before shutting the drawer gently. After pizza, he’ll need to go re-acquaint himself with the laundry room for more than just one load, and by tomorrow, the rest of his T-shirts will cover up the two white ones, but he’ll still remember them, sitting plainly, almost outspokenly, at the bottom of the drawer.


	4. 3x30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparing the mango, a profile piece, Sam finally gets there, someone has to get the fish, Perseverance!, a little talk about Hannah, new BTW shirts, a second birthday that nobody really talks about, the science fair, Finn's apparently not allowed to date, and being happier with no expectations of winning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Playlist for this episode](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLA37EDC86AE455E01)

> “Referencing suicide statistics, the problems with bullying, and a famous gay activist, the proponents of this additional wording in the Lima City Schools anti-bullying policy spoke cogently of their reasons for seeking change. On the other side, speakers opposed the change with talk of religious teachings and students sharing their faith with friends. The meeting room was filled, as were two overflow rooms, and it was clear from the parking lot outside the district building that no observer was on the fence.
> 
> “One of the more amusing parts of the evening was reading the chalked slogans surrounding the numerals that reserved places in the main room. It should be remarked that it is clear that the proponents are student–led; the opponents are led by adults who are neither teachers nor, for the most part, parents.” 

“I had no idea this was happening,” one nurse says to another as she reads from a paper, waiting on Puck to finish their drinks. 

“So the students want it changed, and these people who don’t even have kids in the schools are trying to stop them?” the other nurse asks. “That’s a little strange, don’t you think?”

“Reminds me of the union fiasco,” the first nurse, the one with the newspaper, nods. “Funny how the managers told us we didn’t need the union, wasn’t it?”

“Doesn’t Becky’s daughter go to McKinley?” asks the second nurse. “I’m pretty sure she’s in tenth grade this year.”

“That sounds right,” the newspaper reader agrees. “Oh, thank you,” she says to Puck as he slides the first drink across the counter. “I wonder how many people really were at that meeting?”

Puck finishes the second drink and decides that, what the hell, Ms. Horatio is unlikely to fire him. “About three hundred,” he addresses them. “Sixteen speakers and ten or fifteen were press.”

“Are you one of the McKinley students from the meeting?” the second nurse asks him. 

“I am,” Puck acknowledges. “We actually introduced it at March’s meeting but they wanted to hear from everyone, I guess.”

“Is it really that necessary?” the newspaper nurse asks. “It sounds like a potentially awful situation, all this bullying.”

“It’s not the best situation, no,” Puck settles on. “Right now, a lot of the teachers can’t respond to incidents even when they witness them.”

“That’s terrible,” the other nurse says, shaking her head. “We have a co-worker whose daughter goes to McKinley. I hate to think something like that could happen to Brooklyn and nothing could be done about it.”

Puck nods, thinking that Brooklyn isn’t a horribly common name and one of those gaggle of probably dykes might be named Brooklyn. “Well, if you’re willing, I’m sure contacting the school board would still help,” he finally says. 

“Oh, that’s a good idea!” the first nurse says. “We’ll do that. Are you in this article at all?” she asks, waving the paper. 

“Probably not. I wasn’t speaking or anything. I did help with the chalk, though,” Puck grins. 

“Aren’t you funny!” the second nurse laughs. 

“Well, I’m definitely not the pretty one,” Puck shrugs, still grinning. “Enjoy your drinks, ladies.”

“Thank you! Good luck with the school board!”

Puck nods his thanks and moves on to the next customer, thinking about the people who just seem clueless that it could even _be_ a problem. Granted, there’s still plenty of opposition, but at least not everyone who isn’t _with_ them is precisely _against_ them. 

On the other hand, there’s the crazy fundamentalist people, like the same couple from the past several weeks, who walk in then and practically stalk to the counter. “May I speak to the manager?” the man huffs. 

“Ms. Horatio’s not here right now,” Puck shrugs. “She’ll be in in about an hour.”

“We’ll wait,” the man pronounces, and starts to walk over to a table.

“Look, if you’re not going to order anything, you need to go loiter out in the hospital lobby or something.”

“Well, I never,” the woman shakes her head. “Customer service is on the decline everywhere.”

“If you aren’t ordering, you’re not a customer.” Puck smiles mildly and just stares at them until they retreat into the lobby. 

When Ms. Horatio does arrive, about forty-five minutes later, she comes in with a confused look. “What’s with the couple glaring a hole in our sign?”

“They want to talk to the manager. I told them you’d be awhile, but they wanted to wait.”

“Oh, one of those kind. I get a complainer about once a year. Wonder what this one’s about.”

“Well.” Puck looks sheepish. “Probably because I walked out of here last week holding Kurt’s hand, and we told them we’d see them on Thursday at the school board meeting.”

Ms. Horatio laughs. “I take it they aren’t a fan of the proposal?”

“Not so much.” Puck shrugs. “Want me to wave them in?”

“Oh, yes, please do.” 

Puck walks to the door and gestures towards the interior of the store when the couple glares directly at him. They stand up and walk stiffly to the counter. “Are you the manager?” the man demands.

“I am,” Ms. Horatio acknowledges.

“Did you know you have an avowed homosexual working at your store?”

“Actually, that’s not quite true,” Ms. Horatio says slowly. “We have _two_ of them. I try to make sure they work opposite shifts. So we always have a little extra fabulousness.” She winks slowly at Puck, who turns to the coffee grinder to hide his grin. 

“I thought this was a _reputable_ establishment!” the man says, clearly outraged. “Well, we wanted you to know that we will _not_ be patronizing this store as long as you continue to employ such workers.”

“That’s too bad,” Ms. Horatio says calmly. “But Starbucks doesn’t discriminate on the basis of sexual orientation, so you’ll find you take the same risk at any of our stores.”

The man and woman both huff again, and then turn to leave the store without further comment, the woman casting a scathing look at Puck before she exits. 

“Yep, we’ll miss that six dollars a week,” Puck snorts. “And the non-existent tip.”

 

After dinner, Kurt detours them before heading back to his house for the glee rehearsal. “Carole texted and she apparently desperately needs _fresh_ mango. Frozen mango doesn’t do the trick or something.”

“Do they sell fresh mango in Lima?”

“I have no idea,” Kurt admits, driving first to Ray’s and then Meijer. They find three somewhat battered looking mangoes in a corner at Meijer, and Kurt scoops all three of them up. “If she cuts out the bruises, I think it’ll equal one mango.”

“Maybe get your dad to ‘prepare the mango’ for her so she doesn’t realize it took three mangoes.” He pauses. “I didn’t mean for that to sound like that.”

Kurt laughs. “Sure you didn’t, baby.”

By the time they return to the Hudmel house with the three dented mangoes, Santana’s car is already outside, and when they walk in the door, Santana is lecturing Finn on the ‘proper way to go down on a woman’ and Finn looks mortified. His face is bright red and he looks up at Puck and Kurt with such relief that it’s almost pitiful.

“Guys! You’re here! My friends!” Finn says. “ _Help me._ ”

“Satan. What have we said about terrorizing my brother?”

“Why should it bother him?” she protests. “Such a nice straight boy, why wouldn’t he want to know?”

“Finn is afraid of lady parts,” Brittany says. 

“Oh, _god_ ,” Finn says. “I have to go some place… not… here.”

“You can tell your mom we have mangoes?” Puck suggests, holding up the bag. “Oh, no, wait. Tell your mom we have _mango_ and tell Burt he needs to prepare the mango.”

“Wanky,” Santana says, clearly pleased. 

“We were just talking about that!” Brittany says. 

“Yeah, I’m going to find Burt,” Finn says, fleeing the room. 

The doorbell rings as Finn disappears, and Puck takes the mangoes into the kitchen as Kurt opens the door. The doorbell rings again while Puck has his head in the refrigerator grabbing a pop, and when he makes it back to the living room, everyone’s assembled _except_ Finn. 

Finn pops his head back into the room. “Is it safe? No more _lady talk_?”

“Satan will behave,” Kurt says calmly, shooting Santana a look that just makes Santana smirk. 

“Ok, well, I guess we can get started then,” Finn says, walking the rest of the way into the room. 

“I have one thing to say first, if I may?” Kurt says.

“Sure, go ahead,” Finn says.

Kurt smirks and starts singing the chorus of ‘Judas’, looking straight at Finn. Finn glowers back at Kurt.

“Uncool, dude,” Finn hisses. “Uncool.”

“Since when do you have such a strong objection to Gaga?” Artie asks.

“It might have something to do with my replacing all of his playlists with ‘Judas’,” Kurt admits. “And him not discovering it until he had already left the house. I received a rather disgruntled phone call.”

“I wasn’t disgruntled,” Finn says. “I was pissed off. Don’t try to make it sound nicer than it was.”

“I backed everything up first,” Kurt points out. “It wasn’t like it was permanent.”

“We should just get started with the rehearsal,” Finn says. “I think that’s just safer for everybody.”

“Whatever you say, darling,” Kurt agrees. Finn rolls his eyes at Kurt and turns towards the rest of the glee club. 

“Everybody have on the right kind of shoes for practicing on grass?” Finn asks. “Otherwise, I guess you’re going barefoot.”

“I still have no clue where half my shoes are,” Puck mutters to Kurt. 

“We should find those, probably,” Kurt nods as they all stream out the sliding glass doors and into the backyard. “I’m pretty sure you don’t want to wear most of my shoes.”

“It’s a little warm for the thigh high boots,” Puck deadpans. 

“That would be _awesome_ ,” Finn says, closing the door behind them. “Just, you know, not with the those shorts.”

“Damn, you figured out my outfit for Pride.”

“ _Dude_.” Finn shakes his head. “Does that mean I have to come up with something to top that?”

Puck turns around as he gets to the bottom of the stairs and smirks. “I could say so many things right now, dude.”

“Are any of them a promise that you won’t wear those shorts? ’Cause if not, then I don’t want to hear them, probably.”

“Your loss.” Puck shrugs. “I’d hate to deprive the fine citizens of Ohio.”

“Yeah, that’d be, uh. Horrible, dude, just horrible.” Finn shakes his head. “Go out there and dance or something, will you?”

“Or something.”

“Sure. Or something. Dancing or charades or anything not _those shorts_.”

“I’m very tempted suddenly to go upstairs and put them on,” Puck whispers to Kurt, who starts giggling. Finn glares at Puck suspiciously and Puck pulls on his very best dumb and innocent look, shrugging. Finn just points at Puck and then points out towards the yard. Puck looks at Kurt and they both shrug before walking out to take their positions for the first song. 

After rehearsal is over, Finn tells the guys to stick around, but tells the girls they have to leave. 

“Why do we have to stay?” Sam asks, looking confused as they all sit on the deck. 

“Because we have to talk about the prom thing,” Finn says. “We’ve got to, like, feed them or whatever. Talk about tuxedos. Well, ok, Kurt will talk about tuxedos.”

“That’s true,” Kurt nods. “I will.”

“Can we _not_ feed them Italian?” Mike says. 

“We should make them, I dunno. Oh! Sushi!” Finn says. “That’s not too hard, right?”

“That would definitely be different,” Puck shrugs. “It’s just rolling shit up.”

“Raw fish?” Sam makes a little face. “Well, okay.”

“Sushi doesn’t have to have raw fish,” Artie says. “It can have cooked fish or just vegetables.”

“Does Lima have like, sushi supplies?” Mike asks. “But the girls should love it.”

“I can get some of it in Toledo,” Kurt offers. “But we’ll need to get the fish that day or the day before at the earliest.”

“Who wants to be our official fish catcher?” Finn asks. 

“We can’t,” Kurt reminds him. “It has to be one of you three,” he continues, gesturing at Sam, Artie, and Mike.

“Oh, right, because of the thing.”

“I don’t know anything about fish,” Sam admits. “I don’t even eat it. I order shrimp at Red Lobster.”

“Shrimp is a fish,” Finn says.

“No, it’s shellfish. Because I’m not supposed to eat it. You know what’s really good? Bacon–wrapped shrimp.” Puck grins. 

“A-plus Jewishness, dude,” Finn says, holding up his fist for a bump. 

Puck completes the gesture, laughing. “Hey, I watched _Schindler’s List_ last night. That ought to count for something, anyway.”

“Where are we preparing and serving this meal?” Artie asks.

“My mom would be appalled if we had Japanese food instead of Chinese,” Mike admits. “So my house is out.”

“Ours is tiny,” Sam admits. “I don’t think we’d all fit, even if there were no dates outside the twelve of us.”

“No house.”

“It’s down to us or you, Artie,” Kurt says.

“I think it makes more sense to do it here,” Finn says, “since more of us get dressed here than anywhere else.”

“That works,” Sam agrees as the rest of them nod. “How many people _are_ we talking? The twelve of us plus…?” He looks at the others. “You have a date, right, Finn? Artie, Puck?” He looks at Kurt, too. 

“Yep, I have April,” Finn says. 

“I, uh, might have a sort of date,” Artie says.

“How do you have a sort of date?” Kurt asks. 

“Well, we’re going as friends, but we’re going _together_ as friends,” Artie says. “It’s just Lauren.”

“Well, what about you tw—” Sam says, looking at Puck and then Kurt before breaking off in the middle of his sentence. 

“Finally got there, huh?” Finn asks, looking amused.

“Wait, wait.” Sam shakes his head. “What Stevie said—”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, he didn’t misunderstand. And Hannah wasn’t mistaken.”

“Holy shit.” Sam shakes his head again. “Wait, did everyone know but me?”

“I just found out on Thursday,” Artie says.

“January,” Mike admits. 

“June.” Puck wads up a napkin and tosses it in Finn’s direction. “What? I didn’t _know_ in April!” Finn protests. “I didn’t know until June, and that’s _still_ way before you guys.”

“What about the girls? ’Cedes has never mentioned it.”

Puck shakes his head. “Yeah, ’cause she doesn’t know.”

“Nor Quinn,” Kurt adds.

“Or Schue, but I think Ms. Pillsbury does,” Finn says.

“Oh, okay.” Sam nods. “Well. Cool.” He shrugs. “So we have fifteen people? If Rachel brings her mysterious date, that is.”

“We should get one of those Hummer limos,” Artie says. “Those things are _sweet_.”

“We’d all fit that way,” Mike agrees. “Awesome!”

“I’m putting myself in charge of the limo rental,” Artie says. 

“So I guess Mike’s gonna get the fish, then,” Finn states, decisively. 

 

Mrs. Vey has apparently realized teaching seniors is somewhat futile by April, and she tells them to get into groups and discuss how they would have handled the 1930s if they had lived in various countries throughout Europe. 

“Running,” Puck states decisively. “Trying to swim the English Channel. There, I’m done.”

“Picking grapes in Spain, maybe?” Sam says. “No, wait, there was some kind of shit going down in Spain, wasn’t there.”

“Hitler,” Finn says. “Something about him. I could, like, go to Germany and punch him.”

“I’d catch a dinosaur and bring it back to the future with me,” Brittany says. 

“You could make some money that way,” Puck shrugs as his phone vibrates. He pulls it out and frowns. 

_Satan’s pissed. Someone wrote on their posters, wants someone to stick with Britt_

_What kind of writing?_ Puck sends back, though he has a feeling he knows. 

“What’s wrong?” Finn asks. “Something’s wrong.”

“People are assholes,” Puck responds, waiting on his phone to vibrate again. 

_You can probably guess at least the gist of it. It’s not all of them but enough._

“Assholes I need to take care of?” Finn asks, looking at Puck expectantly. 

“Don’t know how you’d find them.” Puck sighs. “Writing’s easy to do anonymously.”

“What got written on?”

Puck glances in front of them, where Brittany and Sam are engaged in a conversation about how to pick grapes in Spain versus other countries, and tilts his head very slightly towards Brittany. “Posters,” he says quietly. 

“Fucking baseball team,” Finn mutters. “Bet you anything it was them. I might kick their asses just because.”

Puck shrugs. “Thing is, they’re at least upfront. This is even more coward–like. No one knows who does it.”

“I could stake out the posters and see who’s doing it.”

“You and your stake outs.” Puck shakes his head. “You can’t be everywhere at once, dude. And anyway, if it’s Santana and Britt today…” he trails off. 

“Yeah,” Finn nods. “Just. Yeah.”

“Here we go.” Puck sighs. “K says Santana wants someone to walk with Brittany.”

“I can do that. Or Sam. I think Sam’s going in her direction, but I can do it if Santana wants,” Finn says. 

“I think at this point she’s not picky,” Puck acknowledges. “And at least it’s not all of the posters. At this point.”

“Yeah. At this point,” Finn repeats, scowling. “Fuck this school,” he says, possibly a little too loudly, as Mrs. Vey looks over in their direction. Finn grins and waves at her, and she just shakes her head and turns back towards whatever book she has open on her desk. 

 

Schue still looks overly pleased with himself when he walks into the choir room as the bell rings for fourth period. “Perseverance!” he says, writing it on the white board with a flourish. “I know we’re doing ‘Born This Way’ again on Thursday afternoon, and it’s great that you guys want to do that again. Fantastic idea, in fact. But I hope you’ve had time to come with something for this assignment. I know – senior year, you’ve all gotten acceptance letters to at least one school that you really want to attend, there’s prom, and Nationals, and also the school board fight. But we need to keep pushing through, so – perseverance!” he repeats. “Does anyone want to lead us off?”

“I do, Mr. Schuester!” Rachel exclaims, smiling brightly. “As soon as I read your email assignment on Friday night, I knew that this was a perfect opportunity to do a classic Broadway tune.”

Puck shakes his head, exchanging a glance with Kurt. _Everything_ is a perfect opportunity for a classic Broadway tune, at least in Rachel’s head. Rachel stands up and says something quietly to Brad and then the jazz band before beginning to sing. 

_Will you join in our crusade?  
Who will be strong and stand with me?  
Beyond the barricade  
Is there a world you long to see?  
Then join in the fight  
That will give you the right to be free!_

_Do you hear the people sing?  
Singing a song of angry men?  
It is the music of a people  
Who will not be slaves again!  
When the beating of your heart  
Echoes the beating of the drums  
There is a life about to start  
When tomorrow comes!_

“An interesting take on the assignment, Rachel, thanks,” Schue says at the end of her song, writing the title underneath his scribbled ‘Perseverance’ on the whiteboard, for some reason. “Do we have any duets planned?”

“Kurt and I have a little something,” Santana announces, standing up and tapping Kurt on the shoulder as she walks by. “Puckerman, bat–guitar.”

“I love how you assume I’ll know whatever you’re going to sing.”

“Won’t you?” Santana counters. “Queen and David Bowie, ‘Under Pressure’.”

“Yeah, okay,” Puck concedes, standing up as well and grabbing his guitar. 

Santana takes the first few lines, and then they sing together for a few more.

_It's the terror of knowing  
What this world is about  
Watching some good friends  
Screaming let me out  
Tomorrow gets me higher, higher, higher…  
Pressure on people – people on streets_

Kurt sings part of the middle on his own, and then they finish out in harmony. 

_’Cause love's such an old-fashioned word  
and love dares you to care for  
The people on the edge of the night  
And love dares you to change our way of  
Caring about ourselves  
This is our last dance  
This is our last dance  
This is ourselves  
Under pressure  
Under pressure  
Pressure_

“Wow, guys!” Schue says, grinning. “Great choice of song and excellent emotion behind the performance.” He writes ‘Under Pressure’ on the board as well. “Who’s up?”

“I’ll go!” Finn says. “This one was pretty easy to find a song for.”

“Great, Finn!” Schue turns his smile towards Finn. “Let’s hear it.”

Puck recognizes the tune as one of Finn’s Dashboard Confessional songs, even before Finn starts to sing. 

_We're only waiting on the sun to clear away the haze  
Cause we can't see where we've gone from where we started  
Where we strayed and where we're meant to be  
There'll be ash and dust to bury us but I will keep you clean  
And I'll meet you where we started once again_

_Maybe we were right to carry on, to carry on  
Even when they said we'd be undone  
Take it as a sign we can still go on, we still belong  
Even when the worst is yet to come_

_And when tomorrow comes and we've shown everyone  
What they can never take away_

Schue writes down that song, too, as Finn sits down. “I like these songs, guys. Time for one more performance today!”

“Sam and I will go,” Mercedes says, standing up. “We’re going to do ‘Don’t Give Up’.”

Mercedes and Sam alternate singing, Mercedes’ voice a little softer than her usual performances.

_no fight left or so it seems  
I am a man whose dreams have all deserted  
I've changed my face, I've changed my name  
but no one wants you when you lose_

_don't give up  
’cos you have friends  
don't give up  
you're not beaten yet  
don't give up  
I know you can make it good_

“Another great choice, great performance,” Schue says as they finish. “I’m really impressed, guys. I can’t wait to hear what the rest of you have for us on Friday. Is everyone working on their shirts for Thursday?”

“Mr. Schue,” Artie asks. “Is it alright if our shirts are a little suggestive? If they aren’t blatantly inappropriate, of course.”

“Well.” Schue looks a little strangled. “I suppose if they’re merely potentially suggestive.” He pauses. “You know, I always assume the best,” he shrugs, smiling almost dopily. 

“We wouldn’t dream of crossing the line,” Artie assures him. 

“Of course not,” Schue nods. “The machine is in Ms. Pillsbury’s office, whenever you have the time to go and make your shirts.”

“Thank you Mr. Schuester!” Rachel says. “Are you going to make a new shirt yourself?”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought about it,” Schue admits. “I’ll have to give that some consideration.” He looks at the clock and shrugs. “Go on, get out of here,” he laughs. “I feel privileged to have kept your attention this much of the period.”

 

Hannah brings a sheaf of papers with her to the dinner table. “Oh, yum, Chinese leftovers!” she says. “Look what our teacher gave us today!”

“What is it, Hannah?” Rina asks almost absently. “Do I need to sign something?”

“Uh-huh,” Hannah agrees. “It’s the forms for the magnet thingies.”

“The magnet schools? Applications?” Puck asks. 

“Yeah! Stevie and Rebecca both said they’re going to fill out the form for the art magnet, Mom. It sounds _really_ cool. It has art and dance and music and.” She frowns. “Plays, what’s that called again?”

“Drama,” Kurt supplies.

“Yeah, drama! All of that, _every day_ , Mom!”

“Well, I don’t know,” Rina says slowly. “Isn’t that down in what used to be Liberty? Noah, Kurt, do you know?”

“It is,” Kurt agrees. “It’s not too far from our house, really, on Kibby.”

“Hmm.” Rina frowns. “But a magnet school. Doesn’t that mean more, I don’t know. Commitment?”

“There’s a volunteer hour requirement,” Puck responds. “It’s three hours a month, I think – well, thirty hours for the entire school year. I guess you can spread it out or not.”

“You think she should do this, Noah?”

Puck nods. “She could do some other lessons instead of dance lessons, since she’d have dance at school. Plus they start with instruments in fifth grade.”

“Just one more year!”

“I just don’t know, Hannah. This school is farther away than your current school. Could you ride the bus home?”

“Mom, she can’t ride the bus home to an empty apartment.”

“I know that,” Rina says weakly, but Puck suddenly remembers the weeks after Zeke left, when the school bus would drop him off at the end of the driveway and he’d pull the key carefully out from where his mom had pinned it in his backpack. Puck would let himself inside and and then settle in front of the television until his mom got home from work with Hannah. Sometimes Nana would come over, and sometimes Puck would go home with Finn instead, if Carole wasn’t at work, but – he’d gone home after school to an empty house and then an empty apartment, at age ten, and Hannah will be nine by the fall. 

“Anyway, it makes sense, Mom. If her friends are going there, she’d be happier that way, too.” Puck shrugs. 

“All those volunteer hours, Noah. Do you think they let you start accumulating them in the summer? Maybe you could do some of them before you leave. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about it as much, three hours a month is a lot.”

Puck exhales and then shoves a bite of fried rice into his mouth to give him time to calm down before he responds. It’s not his job to do the volunteer hours for his sister, or even to figure out these things; he’s her brother, not her father, and his mother is – he’s not sure. He chews slowly and Kurt’s hand curls around his, squeezing. 

Puck thinks back to a few of his sessions with Dr. V. They’ve talked around his mother, for the most part; he finally admitted the last time that his mother had no idea he was seeing a psychiatrist or was in Toledo. As he told Dr. V, he couldn’t really imagine telling his mom about the GAD unless it was somehow relevant to something for Hannah. Puck thinks about the week he had to wait five or ten minutes for Dr. V, and how he’d leafed through a few brochures on the wall about different things, and Puck sighs, swallowing his bite. He squeezes Kurt’s hand in return and closes his eyes briefly. 

His mother is, essentially, mentally ill. 

Fuck.

“I’ll see what I can find out about proxies for parent volunteers,” Puck finally answers. “Why don’t you go ahead and send in her application? Better to secure her place.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Rina concedes. “All right, Hannah. Let me see the application after we finish with dinner, and you can take it back to your teacher tomorrow.”

“Great!” Hannah grins. “Thanks, Mom! Thanks, Noah!”

 

“I need to talk to your dad and Carole,” Puck says as they get into the Nav to head towards Brittany’s for rehearsal, his tone resigned. 

Kurt’s quiet for a long moment as he starts the Nav and pulls out of the space, steering across the river. “Yes,” he finally says. “I know, baby.”

“Tonight.” Puck heaves a sigh. “You know, I never really put together how close you lived to Brittany.”

“Well, it was a little farther away before we moved, but yes. I’ve been in school with Brittany since kindergarten.”

“Anyone else from glee club?”

Kurt shakes his head. “Not that I can recall, anyway. It’s possible Mike was in middle school with us. I know Tina was at Lima West, Rachel went to a Jewish school, and Quinn of course transferred in. I _think_ Artie was at Lima West with Tina. Sam was in Tennessee and of course you and Finn and Santana were at Lima North.” He shrugs. “It’s odd, a bit. I don’t really remember anyone from elementary school. It seemed like I had different kids in my class every year.”

“Yeah, I remember one year Carole or my mom raising a stink to get Finn and I in the same class. He was the only one that I usually remembered. Oh, Karofsky was in our class in second grade and again in fifth. I wouldn’t have remembered that, probably, except he was already getting huge then. Even Finn didn’t shoot up that early.” Puck shrugs as they pull up in front of Brittany’s. “Finn could have walked here.”

“Considering I don’t see his truck, he very well may have.” Kurt hops down out of the Nav and stretches. “Finally it’s warm.”

“Lizard,” Puck grins. “Happy days are here again for reptiles and other cold-blooded creatures?”

“Precisely.”

 

Puck collapses onto the sofa when they get back to the Hudmel house, leaning his head against the back of the couch. “Want me to get Dad and Carole?” Kurt asks. 

“Yeah, thanks.’’

Kurt nods and walks out of the room, returning a few moments later with three cans of pop. “They’ll be here in a minute,” he says, handing Puck and Finn each a can before opening his own. 

“You guys want me to…?” Finn points up the stairs. 

Puck shakes his head. “Nah.”

“Ok, cool.” Finn opens his pop and sits there, waiting. 

Burt and Carole appear in the doorway after a bit, Carole sitting down a little more heavily than usually. “Sorry,” she says brightly. “I know I’m not even halfway but I just feel so awkward already!”

“You look great, mom,” Finn says, without even really looking in her direction.

“Thank you, sweetie.”

“So, what did you boys need us for, exactly?” Burt asks, settling next to Carole. 

“It’s about Hannah,” Puck says, straightening a little. “And Mom, but. More Hannah.” He sighs and looks at Carole. “You know how Mom is, a little bit.” Carole nods before Puck continues. “I just— next year. I don’t know,” he admits. “Mom is…”

“Dad,” Kurt says, “you have to understand. Rina has Hannah watch _Schindler’s List_ every year.”

“Wait, _what_?” Burt shakes his head like he’s misunderstanding Kurt somehow. “ _Schindler’s List_ , the movie? Not some kind of… documentary about it or something?”

“The movie,” Puck confirms reluctantly. “I usually manage to forget just how bad it is before the next year, but.”

“And Hannah _watches_ it?” Burt looks horrified. “I’m sorry, Puck, but that’s just not okay.”

“No,” Puck agrees. “And today – I’ve been talking to Sam about getting Stevie to go to that arts magnet, and Sam’s mom was going to talk to Rebecca’s parents or whatever, and Hannah’s talking about it and she was just so.” He sighs. “It’s farther away, can Hannah ride the bus home from there, could I do the volunteer hours before I leave in August.”

Burt and Carole exchange a look, and Burt puts his arm around Carole’s waist. “Noah,” Carole says, shaking her head slightly, “of course I’ve had some idea, but I didn’t realize Rina was… Quite so.” She pauses. “I didn’t realize, I suppose, that your leaving would be such a cause for concern.”

“I don’t know if she’s different.” Puck stops, because he almost said ‘worse’, and that’s sort of awful to say about your mother. “Or if I just. Did things without thinking about it?”

“And you’re worried about those things being taken care of now,” Burt says. “I can understand that. How can we help?”

“I hate to ask. Especially with Pretzel. But I just— I guess I just need to know that I’m not going to get a call from Hannah in October or something and find out that she’s been watching TV until midnight and staying home alone after school and failing a class or something.”

“Breathe, baby,” Kurt murmurs under his breath, his hand squeezing Puck’s thigh gently. 

“Kurt, does he need me to get his stuff?” Puck can hear Finn whispering to Kurt. Kurt must shake his head, because Finn stays in the room. 

“You know, Noah, once Pretzel’s here, I’ll be home for at least a few months. Hannah could come here after school for those months, don’t you think, Burt?”

“Oh, I think that would be a fine idea,” Burt says, nodding. “You could use the help around here, too. Maybe Rina would agree to let Hannah do us that favor, maybe even let us slip her a few dollars for giving Carole a hand with the new baby.”

“I’m not sure.” Puck grimaces. “Just let Hannah decide if she tells Mom. If you give her any money.”

“Ah. Yeah, we can do it that way, too,” Burt agrees. 

“Noah, Rina’s always been a little up and down. Are you saying she’s more down than up lately?” Carole asks bluntly.

“I don’t know if she’s more down or if she’s just pi— mad about me leaving.” Puck shrugs. “It’s hard to say.”

“How, uh,” Burt begins, then cuts himself short, looking at Carole. “How down does she get? Enough that Hannah’s needs aren’t going to be met?” He shifts uncomfortably on the sofa. 

“Physically? Hannah will be fine. And apparently they’ve been going to some thing at the library on Wednesdays, even?” Puck shrugs. “But it’s more the stuff that she just doesn’t think to notice.”

Burt nods his head again. “Maybe you can make a list over the next week or so. The stuff you take care of, that maybe nobody else thinks to take care of, or things you think we might need to keep an eye out for.”

“Yeah, okay,” Puck nods. “The big one is Hannah’s birthday.”

“What do you mean?” Carole asks.

“Puck always does Hannah’s birthday parties, mom,” Finn says. “You remember.”

“Oh, yes.” Carole purses her lips briefly. “Well, I can certainly make sure her parties happen, Noah. Are you going to do it this year?”

“Yeah, yeah, this year’s fine,” Puck nods. “Just after this.”

“All right.” Carole nods. “Yes, that won’t be a problem,” she smiles. 

“Cool.” Puck shifts a little uncomfortably. “Thanks. I mean.”

“Not a problem, kid,” Burt says. “We like Hannah. And hey, if Pretzel turns out to be a girl, it might be good practice, right?”

Puck chuckles a little and nods. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

 

“Ninety-nine.”

Kurt blinks his eyes and frowns slightly. “What?”

Puck grins and repeats himself. “Ninety-nine. Ninety-nine days from today is the first of August.”

“Oh.” Kurt smiles slowly. “We’re down to double–digits.”

“Yep. And forty days until graduation.”

“Is it going to rain until then, Nooaah?” Kurt laughs.

Puck groans. “You did not.” 

Kurt giggles as Puck tries to tickle him. “I did!”

“How long have you been waiting to do that?”

“Ages,” Kurt smirks. Kurt closes the distance between them, his hand on the back of Puck’s neck, and Puck parts his lips for Kurt’s tongue.

“We have rehearsal,” Puck points out reluctantly as they separate. 

“I don’t want to rehearse. I want to buy a bottle of champagne and toast to ninety-nine and forty.”

“Slight problem with that plan.”

“Other than the fact that Finn will kill us? Yes, I know. We’re eighteen, not twenty-one.”

“We could probably find a bottle anyway, but yeah. Then we’d be dead.”

“We could get doughnuts before rehearsal I suppose.” Kurt sighs. “Better than nothing.”

“Doughnuts usually are,” Puck agrees as they climb out of bed and get dressed. “Is it nice to just put on one layer?” he teases.

“Unbelievably,” Kurt agrees, pulling on a V-neck T-shirt and then adding a scarf. “I know _you_ like it.”

“I do,” Puck acknowledges, grinning and running his fingers down Kurt’s arm. 

“Let’s get this day started,” Kurt sighs slightly. “Ready or not, here it comes.”

When they show up at the auditorium with a few dozen doughnuts, a few sets of eyes light up. “Ooh, what’s the occasion?” Tina asks.

“Flood,” Kurt shrugs.

“It’s because they love me,” Finn announces, heading straight for the doughnuts. 

“Actually it’s because no one will sell us champagne. Or it might be because Finn would kill us. Or both.” Puck shrugs. “Forty days until graduation.”

“That’s all?” Mike grins. “So that means even less until Nationals and prom and everything else!”

“Nah, it’s also because they love me. That’s what doughnuts mean,” Finn says, shrugging. 

“Yes, and here is a Bavarian Cream, just for you,” Kurt says, handing him one directly. Finn accepts his doughnut with a smug smile. 

“Thank you!” Finn says, as he proceeds to eat about half the doughnut in one bite. 

“Well, this is much better than the breakfast Coach is providing on the bus,” Santana says with a roll of her eyes. “It’ll be rice cakes until we get to the airport, then nothing until after we get back on the plane tomorrow afternoon.”

“Do have fun at your nationals, girls,” Kurt says with a shake of his head, biting into a doughnut. “I think I’ll have a nice burger for dinner. Or maybe a burrito.”

Quinn shudders visibly, but Brittany looks sad. “I love burritos,” she says. 

“Sorry, Britt,” Kurt says. “Maybe after you get back.”

Finn plucks another doughnut from the box. “But until then, rehearsal!”

“Return of Sir, Dictator, Sir,” Puck says, shaking his head. “I suppose it was inevitable.”

“Whatever. You love me. I have proof,” Finn says, brandishing his doughnut. 

“Yeah, if someone wants to really prove it to you, dude, they’ll just buy Pat’s for you.”

“Nah, I don’t need that many doughnuts, dude,” Finn says. “Just the _right_ ones.”

 

“The burritos were a good choice,” Puck says that evening after he leaves Dr. V’s office. 

“Well, the snack of burgers was a good idea, too.” Kurt grins. 

“Why pick one when we can have both?” Puck shrugs. 

“Very true. Target after this?”

Puck nods. “Yeah. More Xanax. I think Dr. V doesn’t really believe that my life is real. He’s all, ‘I don’t have anxiety, and I’d probably want a Xanax after the couple of weeks you’ve had’.”

Kurt snorts. “Yes, well.”

“Anyway, he wanted to talk about switching meds again. Since I shouldn’t really be on BuSpar, because I do have the full-out anxiety attacks, but.” Puck shakes his head. “All the others have huge warnings plastered on them about sexual side effects, so. No.”

“Yes, well. That would not be desired, no,” Kurt agrees. “So he upped it again?”

“Yeah. I told him I just had to get through until June, really, but.” Puck stops. “Well, and he had seen all the TV coverage on Thursday night and Friday, so he sort of believed me.”

“I wouldn’t believe it, either, if I weren’t there.” Kurt takes a long drink of his pop. “And it’s probably just getting started.”

“Yeah, probably so,” Puck acknowledges. His phone chimes then and he snorts as he reads the text from Finn.

_Kurt is famous. More famous. Also you better call that Benji Whitman guy and tell him Kurt has a boyfriend_

“I knew that hipster was a little too interested in you,” Puck says sardonically.

“Oh, god. Don’t tell me.” 

“Yeah, I don’t know.” Puck shrugs. 

_Link, dude?_

Finn sends the link, along with the comment _Good pic of Kurt at least_.

“Oh, great, and a good picture of you, apparently.” Puck shakes his head, smiling ruefully. “Let’s see what good ol’ Benji had to say.”

“At least it wasn’t a bad photo?”

“Right. Well, yeah,” Puck concedes. “It is a good photo. He must’ve taken it while you were actually speaking.” He turns the phone for Kurt to look at it.

“Yes.” Kurt nods. “All right. What does he say?”

“‘Upon arrival, I was struck by the professionalized manner in which the students—all of them members of William McKinley High School’s PFLAG group—conducted themselves, both in their dress and their attitude towards the meeting. Nowhere was this more apparent than in the speech given by Kurt Hummel. Kurt, a senior at McKinley, is acknowledged by his classmates as the de facto leader of PFLAG, and his speech was not about his personal experiences or the experiences of his friends. Dressed smartly but professionally, Kurt spoke compellingly, alluding to Cleve Jones and delivering a speech worthy to mention Mr. Jones. When I spoke to Kurt afterwards, he acknowledged that at the beginning of the school year, he had the distinction of being the only student who was completely out to his or her family and classmates. While that no longer remains the case, it is clear that Kurt is a trailblazer, both in school and at the meeting’.” Puck stops and laughs. “Yeah, blue eyes, he’s writing a profile of you, not a story about the school board fight.”

Kurt sighs, shaking his head. “I was going to argue, but I think you might be right.”

“Maybe Finn’s right, I should let Benji the Hipster know that you already _have_ a boyfriend.”

“I have his card,” Kurt offers, pulling it out and grinning as he hands it to Puck. 

Puck grins wickedly. “Cool.” He dials the number and it rings twice before someone answers. 

“This is Benji Whitman.”

“Yeah, hi. My name’s Noah Puckerman. I was just reading your story about the school board fight in Lima – well, your story that was _supposed_ to be about the school board fight.”

“Hey, that’s great! Glad you liked it!”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s a really flattering piece for Kurt. But you should probably know that he already has a boyfriend.”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the phone. “Well, that’s good to know.”

“Before you come to the next meeting and try hitting on him or something,” Puck continues, “I just thought you should know.”

“Uhh. Right. I try not to make a habit of hitting on high school kids, but thanks for the warning,” Benji laughs. 

“Not that I’d blame you, but his brother might beat you up. And I wouldn’t be all that happy about it myself.”

“Ah. _This_ is the boyfriend.” Benji laughs again. “That explains how you got my number.”

“Mmmhmm. So, yeah, it’s a nice story, dude, but maybe a little more focus on the _actual fight_ and a little less on my boyfriend?”

“Sure. I’ll keep that in mind for the future. Thanks for the call, Noah Puckerman.”

“Yeah, thank you, Benji Whitman,” Puck snorts. “Kurt’ll print it out for his scrapbook. Bye now.” Puck ends the call with a grin. “Yeah, that was fun.”

Kurt laughs. “I’m sure. He did rather write a profile rather than a news piece.”

“Just a tiny bit,” Puck laughs, thumbing to the text message screen. 

_Yeah I called him_

_So I don’t have to drive out there and take care of it?_

_Nah, but I did tell him that Kurt’s brother might beat him up_

_You know it dude, just give the word_

Puck laughs. “Yeah, Finn’s ready and willing to beat Hipster Whitman up.”

“Good to know.” Kurt laughs. “I was worried.”

 

Wednesday passes in a blur of coffee, classes, and a bit of exercise, rehearsal abandoned after fifteen minutes during fourth period, with three of the girls missing. When Puck pulls into a space near the apartment building, he collapses onto the nearby bench to talk to Kurt, and doesn’t make it upstairs until after Rina is asleep, or at least in her bedroom with the lights off, and that’s probably easier, Puck can’t help but think. 

The next morning he pulls out what amounts to the rest of the clothes he has at the apartment, putting on his work clothes and shoving in a duffle bag clothes for school, his T-shirt for the afternoon, plus a hoodie, and then clothes for Hannah’s science fair night, to which Hannah insists he and Kurt must come. He sighs. As much as there’s still another week before his mom and Hannah will officially move, he thinks he might as well take everything else. It takes two extra trips to the Nav, but once he’s done, the only thing left in his room is the air mattress. 

“Right,” he whispers to himself. “Thirty-eight days. Ninety-seven days.”

 

The Cheerios apparently won their national competition, judging by the huge banner across the front of the school, not to mention the fact that Brittany’s actually wearing her Cheerios uniform when Puck gets to history class. “How was Sacramento, Britt?”

“Really warm,” Brittany says. “The hotel was terrible. Also the food. Also the scenery.”

“I thought you weren’t going to get any food? Or is that what was so terrible about it?”

“We had rice.”

“Oh. Just rice?” Puck makes a face. 

“And a laxative. Not even the chocolate flavor kind,” Brittany says, shaking her head sadly. “I think I’ll like the circus better.”

“I… didn’t know there was a chocolate–flavored laxative,” Puck admits. “I think that’s one chocolate thing I’ll skip.”

“Did you see our trophy?”

“No, just the banner. Is it huge?”

“It’s bigger than Rachel,” Brittany says. “If you lose her, she’s probably behind it in the trophy case.”

Puck leans forward across his desk. “If we lose her, is it okay if we don’t try to find her until rehearsal?”

Brittany tips her head to the side like she’s thinking about it. “Yes. That would make it a lot quieter.”

Puck shrugs and nods his agreement. “Also less filled with Streisand numbers, so it could be a win-win.”

“I’m on a winning streak!” Brittany says. “We should go to Nationals right now, while my luck is so good.”

“Yeah, we could just head on to New York now and stay until then,” Puck grins. “That would work.”

“Let’s get on a bus now!”

Puck laughs. “We could write a song about it.”

 

Puck spends half of the afternoon doing a sample multiple-choice section, and then pulls out all the information he has about their trip to Nationals, doing some last-minute budgeting. Since they opted not to participate in the spring carnival just before prom—probably wise, given everything—they aren't going to be making any donations, but the food budget is still really high per person. 

Puck frowns and pulls out his phone, sending a text to Allison. 

_What would you budget for food per day in NYC for students? Not K &N being food snobs, just regular ppl_

_Ha! :) One meal at a street vendor per day. Do u get any free meals?_

Puck frowns and looks through the information, then pulls up the website on his laptop, reading through it. 

_Free lunch T n W. Banquet on Th if top ten but planning on it_

_So $30 per on T, W, Th. How many meals M?_

_Just dinner_

_Add $20 more. Presto. $110!_

Puck nods to himself, doing a little bit of math and looking at their overall schedule. Sure, $110 sounds great, and that's what he'll tell everyone, but he'll knock it up to $150 or so in his own calculations and not let on that there's so much room for error. 

That still leaves about $100 extra, though, which he didn't really expect, and he grins slowly to himself, looking up a few things online before sending another text to Allison. 

_Call me when you get out of class?_

_Kk!_

Puck goes back to work until his phone starts vibrating a little after three. 

"Noah!" Allison greets him. "What fine plans are you making?"

"Well, that really depends on you."

"Oh? Do tell."

"We fly into LaGuardia around three, and it'll take at least forty-five minutes to get over to the hotel, even if we do taxis instead of MTA. But the rest of that day is wide open." Puck pauses and shuffles a few papers. "The Internet assures me that while _most_ shows on Broadway are dark on Monday—"

"—Not all of them are. And you need someone to go to TKTS!"

"Pretty much, yep," Puck laughs. "You up for that?"

"Are you kidding? I get to skip school and meet the rest of your glee club. Of course I'm up for it. Can I get myself a ticket too?"

"I'm not paying you for that one, Allison."

"I didn't think you would, alas. All right, what shows are your top picks?"

"There's only seven shows not dark, but no _Sister Act_ or _Stick Fly_ , because I have no idea what the last one's about."

"Gotcha."

"Go with _Rock of Ages_ first. Then I guess _Phantom_ or _Chicago_ , then _Mamma Mia!_ and finally _Priscilla_. Even though K would love to see it, I'm thinking that he's one of the only ones."

"I know, us straight people bringing you down. How is Kurt? I saw his video online!"

Puck groans. "That thing is everywhere. For the first twelve hours or so, Santana had his twitter linked to it, and it was just…" Puck shakes his head. "Some of the responses were completely out of line."

"Propositioning your boy, huh?" Allison sounds absolutely delighted at the prospect. "I bet you loved that."

"Ecstatic. I might've called one of the reporters, actually," Puck admits, grinning a little. "But, no, he's good."

"And you?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty good. We're good, really. Just counting down the days."

"Until graduation or until you're back out here?"

"Which do you think?"

"Both, but more for here." Allison laughs. "You're counting down until around the first of August, right?" 

"Exactly. Ninety-seven days," Puck says with a grin. "Can't wait."

"I bet! I really can't imagine. But yes, I will get you tickets! I'll text you once I have them and I can meet you at the hotel. Which one are you staying at?"

"That new one, Sanctuary, got a sweet deal on it. It's on West 47th."

"Got it," Allison proclaims. "All right, Noah, I'll see you and Kurt and your posse on the fourteenth."

"Yep. I'll see you then. But now—" Puck looks up at the clock on the wall, "—I gotta go change clothes and sing and dance."

"Kinky. I approve. Bye Noah."

"Bye." Puck ends the call and slips his phone back into his pocket as he stands, then starts to grab his papers and stuff them back in his backpack. 

"Making telephone calls during class?"

Puck jumps and turns to see Mercedes standing in the doorway. "Just the end of it," he says mildly. "Checking on a few things for Nationals."

"Uh-huh." Mercedes shakes her head skeptically. "You sounded awfully happy."

"Nationals is happy," Puck shrugs. "Anyway, what're you doing?"

"Oh, I thought I'd leave my stuff here before I went to get changed," Mercedes acknowledges. 

"Yeah, I was about to do that," Puck nods. "It'll be interesting to see what everyone else’s shirts say."

Mercedes nods and then laughs. "And who from PFLAG can and can't sing."

 

As soon as the bell rings, the auditorium starts to slowly fill, the people that aren’t in glee club still looking a little confused. Puck sits on the edge of the stage and pushes the sleeves of his hoodie up, watching everyone come in and start talking about their shirts. 

Kurt smirks in his direction as he walks in and then sits down in the middle of the stage, discussing something with Tina and Mercedes. Santana sits down next to Puck after a few more minutes. “Go with something racy?”

Puck snorts. “Nope.”

“Disappointing.”

“Now I have to punish myself, clearly. Can’t disappoint Lopez.”

“That’s right.” Santana shakes her head. “What do you think everyone’s are going to say?”

“Well, since Brown sadly didn’t want my old one, I have no idea.”

“Yeah, what is it with you two and Brown?”

“He’s an ass.” Puck shrugs. 

“Oookay.” Santana hops down. “Interesting criteria.” With that, she walks off.

Finn bounds over to Puck. “Everybody’s so funny about the shirts,” he says. “They keep trying to peek between buttons or whatever. I’m making a lists of guesses about what their shirts will say, though, and then afterwards I’ll see if I’m right.”

“Yeah? What’d you put for me?”

Finn pulls out a folded up piece of paper from his pocked. “Dating Finn’s Brother,” he pretends to read from the list. “Ok, no, it doesn’t really say that.”

Puck snorts. “Yeah, well, that’d be a little long anyway. C’mon. What’d you put?”

Finn shrugs. “I’ll show you after. We’ll compare. If I’m psychic, I don’t want to spoil it!”

“If you’re psychic, let’s go buy some lottery tickets or something.”

“If I get more than five right, we’ll do that,” Finn says. “I think five’s a good enough number.”

“Sure.” Puck looks around. “Surprised this many of them decided to do it.”

“They were probably afraid to tell Kurt no,” Finn says. He shrugs again. “Wouldn’t you be?”

Puck laughs. “Yes and no.”

“Yeah, well. _I_ don’t tell him no if I can help it!” Finn laughs, too. “Anyway, why would anybody want to tell him no? He always knows what he’s doing.”

“Clearly everyone agrees with you,” Puck nods. 

“They’re smart like me,” Finn says. 

“Sure, dude.” 

“Okay everybody!” Tina calls out suddenly. “Let’s do this!”

Puck gets to his feet and he and Finn move towards the middle of the stage, where the rest of the glee club is more or less congregating. “So can the rest of us sing if we want?” Alicia asks. 

“Make Taylor sing!” one of his friends says. 

“Sure!” Tina answers. “It’s a celebration, not a competition.”

“Awesome.” Alicia grins. 

“When do we take off the jackets?” Brown asks. 

“Yeah, this isn’t really choreographed or anything,” Finn says. “Just, uh. Watch Kurt and that’s how you’ll know when.”

“Just go with the flow,” Kurt says. “It’s not meant to be precise.” He shrugs. 

“Hey, up here!” Tina yells at the people who are sitting in the audience seats. “You don’t have to dance and you don’t have to sing, but you have to be up here.”

“Good thing!” Casey calls backs. “’Cause I can’t do either of those!” He grabs Karofsky by the hand and pulls him in the direction of the stage. 

Once everyone’s actually on the stage, they make a half-hearted attempt at starting out like they’re performing, and then start the music. 

They’re barely through the first lines when the maybe dykes, including, Puck thinks, Brooklyn–the–nurse’s–daughter, apparently get too excited and start pulling off their jackets, revealing ‘Dyke’—a huge surprise—‘Wears Lipstick’, and ‘Girlfriend’.

That sets off a chain reaction of sorts, and soon there are jackets and shirts flying off the stage in all directions, more and more T-shirts appearing. Most of the glee club waits a little longer, before Tina starts another cascade of jacket–removal, blushing a little as she tosses her jacket and the word ‘Voyeur’ becomes visible. Mike gives her a grin and a thumbs-up before his hand starts towards his own zipper as he dances.

Brittany does a little jacket striptease for Santana, finally twirling her jacket over her head, showing off the word ‘Flexible’ on her shirt. Santana grins and slowly unzips her jacket, holding it closed until she opens it quickly. Brittany claps and then hugs Santana. 

Puck takes his off without any particular fanfare, though he notes that Kurt waits until almost everyone else has removed their jackets before beginning to take his own off. Kurt catches Puck’s eye and smirks again before tossing off his jacket, still singing. 

Finally, everyone’s got their jackets off and they’re either concentrating on performing or concentrating on looking at everyone else’s shirts. Until the music ends, anyway, and then everyone stops worrying about anything _except_ the shirts.

“Should we talk about them?” someone whispers. 

“My shirt’s obvious,” Alicia says. “I _am_ the Superior Brown.”

“Yeah, you wish,” Brown snorts. “Maybe we oughta trade shirts.” He points to his own T-shirt, which reads ‘Ego’.

“At least you and Kurt don’t fight like that,” Artie says to Finn, who has managed to gravitate over to Puck’s general vicinity. 

Puck turns to look at Finn’s shirt and grins at the ‘Little Brother’ stretching across it. 

“Well, look at their shirts,” Santana snorts. “Obviously not.”

Rickenbacker and Alicia start wandering around looking at shirts, and when they get to Kurt, Rick says, “Top? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kurt smiles slowly. “It means that Artie and I, for instance,” he begins, gesturing towards Artie, whose shirt reads ‘Doesn’t Follow Directions’, “are not sexually compatible.” He winks at Artie as he finishes speaking. Artie manages to only look mortified for a split second before nodding in agreement.

“Guess that’s true,” he says.

Finn snorts quietly. “That’s your secret shirt?” he says to Kurt. “That’s not even, like… I mean, how do people not just figure that out, dude?”

“I have no idea, actually.” Kurt shrugs. “And yet.”

“Well, mine’s self-explanatory, too,” Mike says, sporting the words ‘Asian Fail’ on his chest. “I’m not a scientist or going to be a lawyer or anything.”

“’Tana wore the shirt I made her last year!” Brittany announces. “I’m so proud of her.”

‘Girlfriend’ turns to ‘Dyke’ and says, “I thought she was supposed to be Puerto Rican?”

“Lebanese. Lesbian,” Santana snaps in their direction, glaring. ‘Girlfriend’ puts her hands up in apology. 

“Mine’s just supposed to be funny,” Sam shrugs, indicating what Puck hopes is a purposely misspelled ‘Dsylexia’. 

“Daniel’s is good; he even made up a new word!” Alicia announces, pointing to ‘Destupided’ on Rick’s T-shirt. 

Somehow, some of them aren’t surprises at all, and Puck wonders if Finn really did get five or more of them right. Rachel’s says ‘Single’, Mandy’s reads ‘Goes to Church’, and Taylor has ‘Chromosomal Issue’ squeezed onto a shirt. Even Mercedes’ ‘Gossip’ isn’t a huge surprise. 

The two that are most surprising to Puck are Lauren’s—‘Closet Romantic’—and Quinn’s—‘Birthmom’—both of which are honest in a way that a lot of the shirts aren’t. Karofsky’s and Casey’s are interesting at least – Puck isn’t quite sure what ‘Kicks Down Doors’ means, though he could make some guesses, and Casey’s ‘Survivor’ is mostly self-evident.

“What’s a ‘gad’, Puck?” Brittany asks, reading his shirt. 

“It’s an acronym. G. A. D.” Puck pauses for a minute. Quinn sidles over in their direction and Brittany links her arm in Quinn’s.

“What’s it stand for?” Quinn asks. 

“Generalized Anxiety Disorder,” Puck answers. “I actually am, you know. A little bit crazy.”

“I think we might all be, a little bit,” Quinn says. “I’m… seeing someone. A therapist. After what happened at Regionals, Ms. Pillsbury suggested it and I think it’s helping.”

Puck nods. “It does. Not the crazy one from the school board meeting, though?” he has to ask.

She shakes her head. “Someone through my church. So far, we’ve mainly just figured out that I’m angry, but it’s nice to put a word to it, I guess.”

“Yeah. Just – don’t try to do it alone.” Puck looks across the stage briefly. “It’s tempting, but.”

“I already spent the last two years doing it that way,” Quinn says, nodding. “Didn’t work so well, did it?”

Puck cracks a grin. “Not so much, no.”

She smiles back, genuinely if faintly, and then allows herself to be pulled away by Brittany, who seems set on accosting Casey and Karofsky. Brittany produces a red lollipop from her pocket and hands it to Casey. 

Puck moves closer to Finn and raises an eyebrow. “So, we should go get Thai or something, take it back home and make Burt pay us back, and you can tell us if we’re going lottery ticket shopping.”

“Yeah, that sounds awesome,” Finn says. “But we shouldn’t buy a ticket on the way home, I don’t think.”

“Too bad.” Puck shrugs. People start to leave and Kurt walks towards them after a few moments. 

“I’m thinking we should all change our shirts before we get home, yes?”

“What? Mine’s perfectly fine for parents to see,” Finn says. 

“All right, then when Dad asks what mine said, you can tell him!” Kurt smiles brightly. 

“Dude, how does everybody not just _guess_?” Finn asks. “Anyway, I’d totally tell him yours says ‘Big Brother’.”

“Then your mother would want us to pose and take pictures in our shirts. You know I’m right. Tell him, Puck.”

Puck snorts and nods. “Yeah, dude, K’s got a point.”

“Oh, fine, I’ll change it,” Finn sighs. “I still think my shirt’s pretty awesome.”

“It is awesome. And parentally approved,” Kurt agrees. 

“Finn made a list of guesses. He’s going to tell us what they were but we don’t get to buy a lottery ticket,” Puck explains as they walk out of the auditorium. 

“Hmm, we’ll have to find another source of cash, then, I suppose.”

“I could get a job as a stripper,” Finn says. “I bet I could make lots of money with my great new dance skills.”

“Yes, but you’d use too much of your earnings on the commute,” Kurt says, obviously trying not to laugh. 

“I was thinking I could work right here in Lima. We could turn Pat’s into a doughnuts and dancing establishment,” Finn says. “Then I could have doughnuts before work.”

“Or the doughnuts could be your tips. Instead of dollars.” Puck smirks.

“That would get kind of messy, though. I think it’s probably hard to stuff a doughnut into a g-string, dude.”

Kurt casts a sidelong glance at Puck and they exchange a smirk. “I’m sure a less messy delivery method could be found,” Kurt says, almost primly as they reach the Nav. “We’ll see you at home? Unless you want to leave your truck here overnight.”

“Yeah, see you back there,” Finn says. “I don’t think I’d want to leave my truck here these days. Might come back and find out that the baseball players spraypainted ‘football is so gay’ on it or something. This place is out of control.”

“It _is_ a fairly homoerotic sport, Finn,” Kurt points out, shrugging slightly. “Tight pants, sweaty boys tackling each other, and slapping everyone on the ass.”

“That’s, uh. One way to look at it, I guess,” Finn says, looking a little uncomfortable. “I mean, I guess that could explain the number of alphabet soups on the team, though.”

“I don’t think it’s quite that way everywhere,” Puck laughs, climbing into the Nav. “Any special requests on food?”

“Meat?” Finn shrugs. “I’m pretty easy. Nothing vegan and nothing good for me.”

“Got it. No vegetables, in other words.” Puck laughs and closes the door as Finn climbs into his truck. 

“Do you think he’ll notice if the vegetables get left in his curry?” Kurt grins. 

“Probably not?” Puck laughs. 

It doesn’t take too long to get dinner and then get back with it, unpacking all the boxes onto the table. “Finn!” Kurt calls up the stairs. “Thai food!”

“Awesome!” Finn calls back, already out his bedroom door and heading down the stairs. “Did you get me something spicy?”

“No, Finn, we told them it was for a tiny infant, so to make sure it wasn’t spicy at all,” Kurt says with his back still to the kitchen doorway, but Puck can see him smirking. 

“Dude, that better not be true,” Finn says, as he comes into the kitchen. “That would make me sad.”

“Extra spicy, extra meat,” Kurt concedes. 

“Doughnuts for breakfast and now extra spicy _and_ extra meat?” Finn asks. “Is somebody dying or did one of you break something that belongs to me?”

“We can’t just be nice?” Kurt asks.

“And the doughnuts were for everyone. Technically. Plus that was two days ago, dude.”

“No, it’s been a week full of bribes,” Finn says. “You’re up to something sinister. I can tell.”

“Are we that bad?” Kurt purses his lips. “Or, rather, are we never nice to you?”

“Yes, you’re that bad, but yeah, you’re usually pretty nice,” Finn says. “You’re just being questionably nice.”

Puck grins. “You figured us out. We’re using you as the test subject for our new campaign strategy. Is it working?” 

“Can I vote for you twice?”

“Early and often!” Kurt says brightly. 

“Good, ’cause that’s the only way I could be more convinced to vote for you, is if I can vote more than once,” Finn says. “You already had a hundred percent of my vote.”

“So maybe we should hand out food after all?” Puck shrugs. “If we were rich, we could hand out something ridiculous like caviar.”

“I think it would mostly be wasted,” Kurt points out. “Too bad we couldn’t buy pizza for the entire senior class or something.”

“We definitely do not have enough money for that.”

“We could, like, pool our resources or something,” Finn says. “I’d help you buy pizzas. We are _getting_ you that crown, dude. You have to have the set. That’s, like, _important_.”

“You just want a T-shirt. ‘My Brother Was Prom Queen _and_ Prom King’.”

Finn shrugs. “Well, that would be a pretty kickass T-shirt, not even gonna lie.”

“Pretty sure it’d be unique,” Puck shrugs. “No one could claim it was theirs.”

“I’ll have all the best T-shirts. Maybe I should see if Ms. Pillsbury will let me make some before I go to Wisconsin.”

“You and Nana.”

“Nana’s awesome,” Finn says. “Me and Nana against the world.”

 

“You realize an eight year old has both of us wrapped around her little finger?” Kurt says as he parks the Nav at Hannah’s school. 

“Well.” Puck frowns for a moment. “That’s not… okay. Yeah. That’s probably true.”

“I just can’t imagine why else we’re here, is all.” Kurt shrugs and they head inside, following the signs to the gym. 

“Controlled chaos?” Puck suggests as they try to figure out which way to turn. 

“Are we sure it’s controlled?”

“Not really,” Puck laughs, trying to read the signs. “Third grade, that way.”

“There are a lot of plants and potatoes here,” Kurt remarks as they walk down the makeshift aisles. 

“Yeah, the apartment smelled like bread last night,” Puck laughs. “I wouldn’t want to eat anything from most of these kids’ experiments.”

“Noah! Kurt!” Hannah’s voice calls. “You’re here!” 

“Said we would be,” Puck counters.

Hannah just grins as they push through the crowd, gesturing elaborately at her table. “See? Mom helped me set it up!”

Rina arrives at Hannah’s table from the other direction, frowning. “Hannah! Will you stop running off like that?”

“I found Noah and Kurt!”

“This child,” Rina sighs, speaking to Puck and Kurt. “Every time I turn around, she’s vanished again.”

“Did they set up in alphabetical order by last name?” Kurt asks, a small smirk on his face, and Puck has to wonder why he’s asking.

“I believe so,” Rina says. “Honestly, I’m not certain. Hannah, do you know how they have the tables set up?”

Hannah nods. “Yep, alphabetical order!”

“I suspect I know where to find her the next time she vanishes, then,” Kurt says, and now he’s definitely smirking at Puck. 

“Uh-oh,” Puck says. 

“I’m sure I just have to find ‘Evans’.”

Puck groans. “You’re awful. Don’t remind me!”

“What about Stevie?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Puck says hurriedly. “So, uh. Bread.”

“Yes, now that you’ve gotten her to stay at the table, maybe Hannah can explain her project,” Rina says. 

“It was _fun_ , Mom! All the different yeasts. Look at that poor bread.” Hannah points to a very flat loaf. “I used cold water with that one.”

“That other one looks good, though,” Puck says. “You giving out samples?”

“Only to the judges,” Hannah retorts.

“We should have brought our own snacks, K.”

“I think we’ll survive for half an hour or so,” Kurt laughs. 

“So have the judges come by?” Puck asks Rina as Hannah turns to talk to the girl at the table next to her.

“I’m not sure who the judges even are,” Rina confesses. “I’ve mostly been trying to keep track of Hannah.”

“Well, she’s not going to leave the gym,” Puck points out. “And she wants to show off her project. I don’t think it’ll hurt if she’s out of sight for a minute.”

“But the number of people here, Noah! I don’t like not being able to find her.”

“Fine, we’ll follow her around,” Puck sighs, looking at Kurt quickly. Kurt nods and Puck turns back to Rina. “Just… stay here and don’t let people eat her bread.”

Rina sighs heavily, but nods. “Fine.”

Five minutes later, as Hannah stops at yet another random table that does, inevitably, involve a plant, a potato, a battery, or a can of pop, or some combination, Puck thinks that maybe he and Kurt should have stayed with the bread and let Rina chase Hannah, but Hannah’s probably having a better time this way. 

The next table is the one Kurt predicted – Stevie’s. “Hi Stevie! Hi Mrs. Evans!” Puck can hear Hannah chirp before they even get close to the table. 

“Hey,” Stevie answers. 

“Hello, Hannah,” Mrs. Evans says. “Are you here with your mother? Oh, no, I see your brother.”

“My mom’s with my bread,” Hannah answers. “Noah and Kurt are walking around with me.”

Puck shakes his head slightly and turns to look at Kurt, who just shrugs. 

“Your project is very impressive. Did you bake all that bread yourself?” Mrs. Evans asks, smiling at Hannah and then looking over at Puck and Kurt with the same smile. 

“Yep! Noah was at work last night. I think.” She turns to look at Puck. “Were you at work last night or were you at Kurt’s?”

“Uh.” Puck blinks for a second. “I was at work. You were asleep when I got home.”

“Oh, okay!” She looks back at Mrs. Evans. “Noah was at work. It wasn’t hard though, I’ve made bread before.”

“Goodness,” Mrs. Evans says. “Well.” She looks momentarily at a loss for words. “I’m glad you found a project that you could get excited about. Stevie was less than enthusiastic about his,” she says, finally.

“I like to cook. I want cooking lessons but they don’t have those here like in the big cities,” Hannah continues. “So maybe I’ll take some other kind of lesson.”

“That would be fun. Stevie says you’re in dance classes right now.”

“Yeah, but Mom and Noah say that if I go to the arts magnet I can do something else for lessons since I’d get to dance there!”

“Stevie’s very excited about the magnet school, too,” Mrs. Evans says, with a conspiratorial glance at Puck. “Won’t you two have such a great time together!”

“Yeah, I bet we don’t have to do as much social studies since we’ll be doing all that art!” Stevie says, grinning. Puck stifles a laugh, because if he had to guess, it probably doesn’t work that way. 

“I suppose we’ll just have to see,” Mrs. Evans says. “If you boys wanted to look at the other projects, I could bring Hannah back over to her table later.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Puck nods, looking at Hannah and Stevie talking rapidly about something. “She’d probably like that.” He flashes a quick smile at Mrs. Evans. “We’ll see you in a little bit, squirt.”

“Don’t call me that!” Hannah whips around. “Noah!”

“Okay, squirt. I’ll stop… soon.” He grins and turns as she huffs, and in the press of crazed parents and teachers, not to mention the students themselves, he grabs Kurt’s hand, squeezing it slightly as Kurt looks over and smiles wryly. 

 

“Just a week until prom,” Santana says as she saunters into the choir room at the beginning of fourth period, “and Brittany and I are one of the top couples.”

“That might be because you terrorized all those freshmen into claiming they were seniors just for ben Israel’s ‘poll’,” Kurt fires back. 

“Those were freshman? I’m almost certain they said they were seniors.” Santana shrugs. “Liars. What can you do?”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “I didn’t realize that the female ticket could be more of a dick than the ticket with the dicks.”

Santana snorts. “You’ve been hanging around your prom queen candidate too much, Kurt.”

“Oh, I thought it was from being around you.”

“What _do_ the polls say?” Tina asks. 

“We’re beating everybody,” Brittany says. 

“Under _false pretences_ ,” Kurt insists, and Puck nods, because, yeah, ’Tana probably did con a few hundred people into contributing to the poll.

“No, they’re totally real,” Brittany says. “The fake ones might get in the way when I join the circus.”

“What about Kurt and Puck?” Sam asks. 

“They’re tied with that baseball player,” Brittany says. “I don’t like him. I hope we all beat him. I hope he loses so badly that he cries and his girlfriend leaves him.”

“Didn’t he say something about him winning being a moral stance or some bullshit?” Mike frowns. “What an idiot.”

Finn enters the choir room then and says, “Hey, what are you guys talking about?”

“My matching set.”

“You’re gonna rock that crown, dude,” Finn says. 

“How _are_ you spinning that, guys?” Sam asks, after glancing around the room. 

“Is Sam playing now, too?” Brittany asks. “And I thought that _we_ were bad at this.”

“I told Jewfro that the rest of the glee guys had dates and someone had to be badass enough to represent.” Puck shrugs. 

“And they bought it,” Mike nods. “That’s pretty funny, actually.”

Puck shrugs. “I think Jewfro was more disappointed I wasn’t going to show up in a dress.”

“I know I’m devastated,” Sam shrugs. 

“My heart is broken,” Brittany says. “I was going to help you pick out shoes to match.”

“Well. Thanks,” Puck settles on. “But not necessary.”

“What’s not necessary?” Mercedes asks as she and Quinn enter the room. 

“High heels.” Puck shrugs.

“Not sure you could rock that look, dude,” Finn says. “Besides, they’re, like, bad for your ankles or whatever. Get you some of those high boots.”

“I spend a great deal time concerned about my ankles, it’s true,” Puck nods solemnly. “Better make sure I have good ankle support.”

“You can borrow some of my boots, Puck,” Brittany says. “I have the really tall ones.”

“I think my feet are bigger than yours, Britt, but thanks.”

“Perseverance again!” Schue says firmly as he enters the classroom. “But before we hear the rest of you perform, remember the blood drive dinner tonight. We’ll meet at Breadstix at 6:30 and then go see a movie afterwards, all on the school’s dime.”

“Double dinner night!” Finn declares. “Best night ever!”

“Aren’t you glad it’s not your turn to cook?” Kurt asks. 

“Yes,” Finn says. “My hand finally feels all the way better, and if it was my turn, I was going to try the mac n’ cheese again.”

“And instead, we get steak.” Kurt smiles brightly. 

“I could put steak in the mac n’ cheese some time,” Finn says, more to himself than to Kurt. “That might be awesome.”

Kurt shakes his head slightly, and Puck frowns, because he’s not sure it would be awesome, and anyway, he’d forgotten that he had to cook that night, but they _are_ having steak. 

“Great, well, 6:30, guys,” Schue repeats. “Who’s up first?”

“We are!” Tina says, and Brittany follows her to the front of the room. “We’re doing ‘For the First Time’.”

_But we both know how,  
How we're gonna make it work when it hurts,  
When you pick yourself up,  
You get kicked to the dirt,  
Someone help us ’cause we're doing our best,  
Trying to make it work but man these times are hard_

_But we're gonna start by  
Drinking old cheap bottles of wine,  
Shit talking up all night,  
Saying things we haven't for a while,  
A while, yeah  
We're smiling but we're close to tears,  
Even after all these years,  
We just now got the feeling that we're meeting for the first time_

“Nice choice, nice job, girls,” Schue says as the pair of them sit back down. “Who’d like to go next?” He writes the title of their song on the whiteboard, for some reason. 

“I’ll go, Mr. Schue,” Quinn says. 

“Great! What do you have for us?”

Quinn stands up and does a passable rendition of “Everybody Hurts” by R.E.M. It’s not the most moving performance ever, but she seems to put genuine emotion into it, at least. 

“Another good choice,” Schue says, making another note on the whiteboard, just like he did on Monday, below the first song of the day. “Who’s up next?”

“I’ll go,” Mike volunteers, grinning as he stands up. “I’m doing Elton John’s ‘I’m Still Standing’.”

_Don't you know I'm still standing better than I ever did  
Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid  
I'm still standing after all this time  
Picking up the pieces of my life without you on my mind  
I'm still standing, yeah, yeah, yeah  
I'm still standing, yeah, yeah, yeah_

“Oh, another great selection, nice job, Mike,” Schue says, then looks at Puck and Artie. “You two performing together?”

“Yep,” Puck answers, grabbing his guitar and standing up. “New Radicals’ – ‘You Get What You Give’.”

_Wake up kids  
we got the dreamers disease  
Age 14 they got you down on your knees  
Souls polite, we're busy still saying please  
Frie–nemies, who, when you're down ain't your friend  
Every night we smash their Mercedes Benz  
First we run; and then we laugh till we cry  
But when the night is falling  
and you cannot find the light, light  
You feel your dreams are dying  
Hold tight _

_You've got the music in you  
Don't let go  
You've got the music in you  
One dance left  
This world is gonna pull through  
Don't give up  
You've got a reason to live  
Can't forget  
We only get what we give_

“Oh, I haven’t heard that in a long time, but a great choice!” Schue grins at the two of them. “All right, guys, see you tonight!”

 

“I haven’t been to Breadstix in months,” Puck admits as he, Kurt, and Finn leave the Hudmel house to meet the rest of the club, and Kurt nods his agreement. 

“I can’t remember the last time I went to Breadstix,” Finn says. “It’s kinda not really good.”

“It is free,” Kurt shrugs. “Do you think we get dessert?”

“We could have dessert for dinner,” Finn says.

“Oooh, if it’s just a dollar amount per person, we could have _lots_ of dessert!”

“Three slices of chocolate pie,” Puck grins. 

“And then if we get dessert, too, we could have pie for dinner and, I dunno, cheesecake or whatever for dessert–dessert,” Finn says. “Best dinner ever.”

“I thought my steak was the best dinner ever,” Puck pouts.

“No, see, it’s steak and then dessert and then _another_ dessert,” Finn explains. “The whole dinner effect is what’s the best dinner ever.”

“The Dinner Effect sounds like a reality show.” Kurt tilts his head. “Food Network, maybe?”

“Just what the world needs, another show for Hannah to be addicted to.”

“Or maybe instead on Bravo. Twelve dinner guests that have scintillating conversation for an hour.”

“Are they allowed to put that kind of stuff on regular TV?” Finn asks. “I think they probably have to put it on HBO or Showtime.”

“Not titillating!”

“They’re gonna be topless, too?”

“Nooo,” Kurt says, fighting laughter. 

“Ok, I’m just fucking with you on that last one,” Finn says. “I know what titillating means.”

“You know, we could make sure _you’re_ topless,” Kurt says tartly. 

“And then you couldn’t have dessert–dinner, dude,” Puck adds, shaking his head mock–sadly. “No shoes, no shirt, no service.”

“I don’t need service. I just need pie and cheesecake.”

“You need someone to serve you pie and cheesecake,” Kurt replies as they climb out and walk towards the entrance. He looks over at Puck and winks, and Puck grins, nodding. 

They let Finn walk just in front of them and then they grab at Finn’s shirt, trying to pull it up and attempting to tickle him at the same time, so he can’t fight back. Finn shrieks and tries to twist away and slap at them at them simultaneously, but ends up half–tangled in his shirt, attempting to kick Puck.

“ _Stoppit!_ Assholes!” Finn yells at them. 

“You wanted titillating,” Puck laughs. 

“I just wanted pie!”

“Now you could have titillating pie!” Kurt keeps tugging on the shirt. 

“Kurt, seriously,” Finn says. “Stop.”

Finn sounds weird, almost strained, and Kurt and Puck exchange a glance and sigh as they release Finn. “Party pooper,” Kurt sniffs as they finish walking to the door and head inside. 

“He is,” Puck agrees. “Maybe you only get two pieces of pie, dude.”

“Yeah, well.” Finn smooths his shirt down. “Whatever.”

“Hey, guys!” Tina greets them as they walk towards the pushed–together tables at the back. 

“Free food!” Mike adds, nodding. “Schue’s here, somewhere.”

“Hopefully the free meal wasn’t actually Figgins arranging for the faculty sponsor to wash dishes to pay for the meal,” Kurt shrugs. 

“I could see Figgins doing that, actually,” Mike nods. 

“Hey, guys,” Sam’s voice calls behind them. “This is pretty cool.” 

“Yeah, this was my week to pay for date night,” Mercedes says, sounding amused. “So I’m very happy about it.”

“She is,” Sam agrees.

“Hey everybody,” Artie says, rolling up. “We ready to get our pasta bowls on?”

“Dessert,” Puck answers. “I’m just eating a lot of dessert.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Artie agrees. “I’m going for the shrimp fettuccine, personally.”

“I for one am pleased that they have several vegan options!” Rachel announces as she walks up. “I do not want to consume sentient life forms like you, Artie. Have you thought about the shrimp’s mother?”

“I’m pretty sure the shrimp hasn’t thought about the shrimp’s mother, because it’s a _shrimp_ ,” Artie says. 

“Have you ever seen a live shrimp? They’re so _interesting_ , for a few moments,” Rachel says, then sighs, choosing a seat next to the one Finn’s standing behind. Finn walks to the other end of the table before pulling out a chair and sitting down. Puck looks at Kurt, who shrugs, and while the others are talking to Quinn, Brittany, and Santana as they arrive, they walk over and sit on either side of Finn. 

Schue walks over from wherever he had been. “Oh, good, you’re all here! We have fifteen dollars a person, so go crazy!”

“Wow, Figgins is such a big spender,” Santana snipes. “Are we restricted to certain movies to get cheaper tickets?”

“Three desserts and a drink,” Finn says, shrugging. “Sounds good to me.”

“I do not want to watch Zac Efron pretend to be a soldier,” Kurt says. 

Quinn and Mercedes both frown, and Quinn says, “Well, I don’t want to see a horror movie or an action film. What’s wrong with wanting to see something romantic?”

“There’s romance, and then there’s returning from war.” Kurt shakes his head. 

“Why not _The Three Stooges_?” Sam asks. 

“Sounds good to me!” Mike agrees.

“No. No,” Santana shakes her head. 

“We can always wait until we get there,” Tina points out. 

Puck just shrugs and orders his desserts, because it’s still a free movie, and at the end of it, he gets to crawl into bed with Kurt, so he can’t be too bothered. The issue of what movie to see is apparently dropped as they all eat and then leave for the movie theatre. 

“Popcorn?” Kurt smirks as they drive across town. “Extra-large size?”

Puck shakes his head. “You’re evil, blue eyes.”

“Yeah, popcorn’s ok.”

“No Sour Patch Kids?” Puck asks mildly, looking over his shoulder. 

Finn just shrugs, like he has no feelings about Sour Patch Kids either way. 

“I think we should suggest that chimpanzee movie. Just to see what the rest of them say,” Kurt muses. 

“There’s a movie with a chimpanzee? Or is it about a chimp?”

“About. The entire thing.”

“Yeah, I want to see the looks on their faces.”

When the three of them walk up to the cluster the rest have formed, the discussion about what to see is in full swing. “ _Chimpanzee_ ,” Kurt says as they walk up. “That’s what we should see.”

“Yep. It’s supposed to be really, um.” Puck frowns. “Funny. Right, Finn?”

“Yeah, funny,” Finn echoes. 

“Seriously?” Santana looks at the three of them incredulously. “A nature documentary.”

“Shouldn’t we use our educational dollars responsibly?” Puck asks blandly.

“I don’t like monkeys,” Brittany says. “We can’t watch that one.”

“How can you not like monkeys?” Rachel asks. “They’re so adorable!”

“They poop in their hands and throw it at you. It’s not adorable just because they’re monkeys,” Brittany says. “It wouldn’t be adorable if Sam did it.”

Sam makes a face. “That’s gross. Why would I do that?”

“You wouldn’t. It’s because you’re classier than a monkey,” Brittany says, reassuringly. 

“I’m putting that on Facebook,” Sam declares. 

“We should see the Keira Knightley movie,” Artie says. “She’s classier than a monkey, too.”

“That’s one way to endorse someone,” Mike nods. “Sure.”

“It’s better than a documentary.” Santana rolls her eyes. 

“Also an endorsement?” Tina shrugs. 

“Great!” Schue beams. “Let’s just go to that one. All right?”

“Never trust a monkey,” Brittany says, and that seems to put the matter to rest. 

 

Puck grins to himself and scoots more to the middle of the bed as Kurt climbs in and drapes one arm over his waist. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself.” Kurt starts kissing all along Puck’s shoulder blades and across his neck, the hand resting on Puck’s stomach making slow circles. “Tired, baby?”

“Not that tired,” Puck answers, grabbing Kurt’s hand between his and bring it up to his mouth, kissing it softly before releasing it and turning to face Kurt. “Are you?”

Kurt shakes his head, smiling, and brushes his lips against Puck’s lightly before starting to pull away. Puck frowns and runs his fingers through Kurt’s hair, pulling him back in for a much deeper kiss, holding him in place. Kurt’s lips part and his tongue darts out, pushing into Puck’s mouth and along Puck’s tongue, and Puck throws a leg over Kurt’s, pressing the two of them against each other. 

Kurt pulls away with a pleased grin. “No, I guess you aren’t too tired, are you?” Kurt runs one hand down Puck’s side and then lets it drift to Puck’s ass. “Do you want me inside you?”

“Always,” Puck says, grinning. “You should know that by now.”

“Just double-checking,” Kurt laughs, then rolls Puck onto his back and lies on top of him. “But I guess I do need to live up to my claims, don’t I?”

“You usually do.” Puck reaches out for the bedside table, opening the drawer and finding the lube without looking. “Want to fuck me now, blue eyes?”

Kurt giggles and grabs the lube. “Why, yes, actually, I think I do. Is that what you want to hear?”

“It is,” Puck agrees as Kurt opens the bottle and coats two of his fingers, sliding them slowly inside Puck.

“Mmm, or I could just fuck you with my fingers, baby. You’re so tight.” Kurt quirks his fingertips, brushing against Puck’s prostate just enough for Puck to bite down hard on his lip. “Wish I could make you scream,” Kurt murmurs regretfully. 

Puck nods, locking his eyes on Kurt as Kurt slips another finger inside Puck. Kurt, just like he said, slowly fucking Puck with his fingers, his other hand playing with first one and then the other of Puck’s nipples. He lowers his mouth to Puck’s stomach and hips, kissing around and up to the base of Puck’s cock, and Puck does let out a soft moan. “K, please.”

“Please, what?” Kurt whispers, and Puck’s hips buck as he feels Kurt’s breath against his skin. “Please put my mouth on you? Please fuck you? Please stop?”

“No. Nonono. Don’t stop, don’t stop.” Puck closes his eyes. 

“Which of the other two?”

“Yes?” Puck offers hopefully. 

Kurt starts to laugh, then grins very slowly. “You know…”

“ _Fuck_.”

Kurt withdraws his fingers, and Puck frowns slightly, but then Kurt’s pulling him sideways and honestly Puck’s not sure exactly how Kurt’s managing, just that Kurt’s pushing inside him and moments later, somehow, Kurt’s mouth is on Puck’s cock.

“Oh holy fucking hell Kurt,” Puck says, his eyes closing and his legs wrapping around Kurt. “Oh _fuck_ K, fuck fuck so good just _shit_ , K, don’t stop.”

It takes Kurt a few moments to establish a rhythm, but then he’s pounding into Puck and his mouth is sliding up and down Puck’s cock, one hand on Puck’s hips and the other wrapped around the base of Puck’s cock, also moving up and down. Puck can tell he isn’t going to last long, not like this, and he squeezes around Kurt as Kurt’s hand speeds up, his tongue wrapping around the tip of Puck’s cock and across the top. 

Puck bites down on his lip and brings one arm up, pressing his wrist against his mouth as he comes hard into Kurt’s mouth, and seconds later, Kurt pounds in a final time and comes with a muffled shout of his own. 

They slowly untangle and collapse onto the bed, Kurt pulling Puck into his arms. “Mmm. Good, baby?”

Puck nods, grinning. “Yeah. I don’t know how you managed that, K.”

“Me either.” Kurt laughs. “Sleep now.”

“Yes.” Puck closes his eyes and lets his head drop to Kurt’s shoulder. “Sleep now.”

 

“Wake up, baby,” is the first thing Puck hears the next morning, and he frowns, eyes still closed. 

“Why?”

Kurt laughs. “Breakfast?”

“Oh. Yeah, okay. What’s for breakfast?”

“Breakfast buffet at Golden Corral, if you want.”

Puck cracks an eye open. “Yeah, I do want. When’s everyone meeting here?”

“Eleven-thirty. So we have a couple of hours to eat.”

“Awesome.” Puck rolls out of bed. “You’re already dressed.”

“I woke up about half an hour ago.” Kurt shrugs. “I think Finn’s coming with us.”

“Cool. Find me something to wear?”

Kurt smirks. “Ooh, you have to be careful telling me that.”

“Can’t be worse than a dress or Brittany’s boots.”

Kurt shrugs. “You may have a point.” He pauses for a long moment. “Okay?”

“Yeah. I am.” Puck shrugs a little. “I mean, I wish I could see her today, but there’s a lot of years and birthdays left.”

“And she’ll remember those birthdays more than her second,” Kurt points out, grabbing some of Puck’s clothes and then sitting next to him on the bed. “And the presents you ordered.”

Puck grins. “Yeah, admit it, you had fun with that.”

“Of course I did,” Kurt laughs. “But you knew I would.”

“Yep.” Puck pulls on his jeans and stops. “Bring me my laptop?” Kurt nods and opens it up while Puck finishes getting dressed. “Seems like if I can send her audio of me, a bit of video’s not too much, right?”

Kurt smiles. “No. I think it’s perfect.”

When they get downstairs, Finn is waiting patiently on the sofa for them. “Is it food time yet?”

“It is,” Kurt nods. “Ready?”

“I even have my shoes on already,” Finn says. “I’m really hungry.”

“Good thing it’s all you can eat,” Puck shrugs as they head out to the Nav. “Got to get you through disc golf, anyway.”

“We’ll let Finn stop at the gas station and get snacks.”

“Good plan.”

“I can do that. I’m good at that kind of stuff,” Finn says. 

“That’s why it is now your job.” Kurt grins. “After we overindulge here, that is.” Kurt parks and they head inside, each grabbing a plate. 

“Bacon and sausage and ham. Jewbane, this line is,” Puck says happily. 

“Don’t steal all the bacon, dude,” Finn says. “I know you’re living the bacon appreciation life, but the rest of us would like a slice or two at least.”

“They’ll put more out. Chill.” Puck shakes his head. “If we stay long enough, they’ll put out the dessert before we leave.”

“We can stay that long,” Finn says. “I’m in favor of dessert.”

“I’m in favor of doing a buffet more often,” Kurt shrugs. “Better deal.” He grins. “See how much I’ve learned in consumer math this semester?”

“Awesome math skills, bro,” Finn says.

“I know, clearly I missed my calling as an engineer or something.”

“Don’t give up your day job, K.”

“Speaking of day jobs, are you working at the shop this summer?” Kurt asks Finn. 

“Yeah, I figured I might. I could use the money and it’ll give me something to do,” Finn says. “No girlfriend dramas to keep me busy like Sam’s gonna have.”

“Yes, I think being Rachel’s boyfriend this summer would be a full-time job.”

“With overtime,” Puck jokes. 

“Scary, but probably true,” Finn says. “Though, I dunno. I’ve been thinking about getting back out there or something. Nothing serious, but like dating around or something. Would give me something to do.”

“Hmm.” Kurt does his head–tilting thing. “But who?”

“I dunno. School’s full of girls. I’m sure one of them would go out with me,” Finn says. He sounds a little defensive about it. 

“It usually helps to know their name. Or some approximation of it, anyway, dude,” Puck shakes his head. 

Finn shrugs. “Figured I’d just go up to the cute ones and ask them out, and just roll with it from there.”

“Well. That’s an interesting approach,” Kurt finally says, and Puck shrugs. 

“Whatever floats your boat, I guess.”

“What, you think I can’t get a girl to go out with me?” Finn frowns. “It’s not like Rachel ruined me for life or anything, dude. Seriously. Everybody else has somebody. I’m sure at least some girl would let me take her out to dinner. Not like I’m looking for anything serious.”

“Nah, just.” Puck shrugs. “Like I said, whatever floats your boat. Not really your usual MO, is all.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m gonna see anybody seriously when I’m going to Wisconsin in a few months.”

“At least learn their names before you ask them out?” Kurt suggests. 

“Dude, why do you even care?” Finn asks. “I’m not asking out anybody you know, so why does it matter?”

“I don’t know, it just seems vaguely disrespectful,” Kurt answers, stabbing at a slice of ham. 

“Fine, I’ll ask one of their friends first or something. Jesus, Kurt, it’s not like I’m going around the school just whoring it up with all the women,” Finn snaps. “I just want to take a girl to a movie or something.”

“Hey,” Puck says mildly. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean you,” Finn says. 

Puck rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Whatever, dude.”

“Whatever right back at you,” Finn says, forking a large bite of pancake into his mouth. 

They’re all mostly silent until the dessert does, in fact, get put out. “We have thirty minutes to stuff ourselves with dessert and get back,” Puck points out. 

Finn shrugs and stands up to get some dessert. Puck and Kurt exchange a glance and then follow him towards the dessert spread. No one really says much of anything as they leave and drive back, and when they arrive, Mike and Sam are both already there. 

“Hey!” Mike greets them. “So where are we headed?”

“Bowling Green,” Kurt answers. “But we’re stopping along the way for stashing snacks.”

“Snacks are an excellent idea,” Sam agrees as Artie arrives. 

“Are we ready to go?” Artie asks. 

“Are you ready, are you ready for this, are you sitting on the edge of your seat,” Kurt intones, then shrugs. 

“Out of the doorway the bullets rip?” Puck finishes. 

“You two might be a little frightening,” Sam says with a frown. 

“And yet, it all makes so much sense now,” Artie adds. “Which might be even more frightening.”

“Usually things _do_ make more sense in context,” Kurt agrees. “Shall we?”

Mike nods. “Sounds good.”

Puck hooks up his phone to the stereo and just hits shuffle, because at this point, no one in the Nav is going to be surprised if he has some of Kurt’s music on his phone, and vice versa. Well, they might be surprised, but it’s not giving anything away, at any rate. 

They’ve been driving for about half an hour, talking about nothing of any actual significance, unless Sam’s crisis of not creating a new impression in the last week is significant, when ‘Bad Romance’ starts blaring.

“Puck, you’ve got Gaga on your phone,” Artie states. “That is really bizarre.”

“I do,” Puck nods. “And K has Placebo on his.” He shrugs.

“I don’t have ‘Judas’ on mine anymore,” Finn adds. 

“Perhaps I should have gone with a different song.” Kurt shrugs. “Oh well.”

“No Gaga at all anymore. I did a search and destroy.”

“ _I_ still have Gaga,” Kurt points out. “Plus, I’m still offended that you called her musical herpes.”

Sam and Mike both start laughing. “Musical herpes, dude? You said that to _Kurt_?” Sam asks.

“I don’t think I said that,” Finn says. “I’m pretty sure he’s making that up. You know he lies.”

“Sorry, dude. I heard it, too.”

“Well, you lie, too,” Finn says. “Liars, the both of you. Just making up all this stuff about me all the time.”

“Yeah, that’s what we’re known for.” Puck shakes his head. 

“You’re only not known for it because you’re so good at it,” Finn says. “Did you know his name’s not even really Kurt? It’s an alias.”

“Don’t tell them about my career as an art forger.”

“I’m gonna tell them all about it,” Finn says.

“I’ll have to change jobs then, I suppose.”

“Sucks to have to get rid of those suits, though,” Finn muses. “They are _really_ nice suits.”

“He can always find some other job that requires suits. Hmm. I think banker’s out, though,” Puck laughs. “Don’t you?”

“Yeah, that would be bad, like, _really_ bad,” Finn agrees. “I can see people coming in complaining about where their money went, and I don’t think that being the pretty one gets you out of trouble over money stuff.”

“Being the pretty one _always_ gets you out of trouble. They would only complain because I started robbing the bank clients once I couldn’t forge any more art. Once a criminal, always a criminal.” Kurt shrugs airily. “Puck, you’ll have to figure out how to get me out of trouble while Finn carries all the gold bars for us.”

“Always getting stuck with the heavy lifting,” Finn sighs. 

“Alright, this is really bizarre, you three,” Artie says. “Seriously.”

Puck shrugs and exchanges a glance with Kurt before looking back at Finn, who also shrugs. 

“Well, if we were all the pretty one, we’d just get thrown in jail. Or something.” Kurt sounds almost whimsical. “Right?”

Puck nods. “Probably.”

“I can’t be the pretty one, anyway,” Finn says. “Wrong bone structure.”

“Sorry, dude. Rough break,” Puck says solemnly. 

Kurt waits until they’re almost to the disc golf course before he pulls off at a gas station and turns to Finn. “Your mission, should you choose to accept it or not, is the procurement of snacks.”

Puck snorts and hands Finn a twenty. “That’s three each, surely we can survive until dinner.”

Finn nods, his face serious. “I’ll be back in five minutes or less.” Finn disappears into the gas station and returns in about three minutes, carrying two full plastic bags. Once he’s back in the Nav, he hands Puck his change. 

“Now I can really live it up tonight. A whole… thirty-seven cents,” Puck snorts, grinning.

“Hey, I stayed in the budget,” Finn protests. 

“What’d you get us?” Sam asks. 

“Beef jerky, two flavors of chips, a couple different kinds of candy, and bottled water. Oh, and gum.”

“Sounds like a good haul.” Mike looks pleased. “What kind of candy?”

“Chocolate, I hope,” Puck jokes. 

“No, dude, because I’m a stranger and we’ve never met,” Finn says, straight-faced. 

“Who are you again?” Puck grins. 

“I’m the guy with the bag full of candy,” Finn says. “Who are you?”

“I’m with him,” Puck jerks his thumb towards Kurt. 

“Oh, ok, that’s cool then,” Finn says, nodding. “Here’s your chocolate, then. I got you two kinds, but only ’cause you’re with him.” Finn hands up a 3 Musketeers and a large bag of M&Ms. 

“Sweet!” Puck grins and puts both in his backpack as Kurt drives the rest of the way to the course. 

“It’s so very sad,” Kurt remarks as they climb out of the Nav.

“What’s sad?” Mike asks. 

“How badly you’re all going to lose to him.” Puck laughs as he answers. “Right?”

“It’s true. You are. All of you.”

“One of these days, they’ll just learn to go ahead and assume they’ll lose, just like me and Puck do,” Finn says. “It’s so much nicer when you don’t have any expectations of winning.”


End file.
